Word of her attack spread quickly; perhaps it was because Bicknor was such a close-knit community that gossip spread like runed fire. Although Seiren hadn't really connected with the people there, her mage status and association with Loren Rummage meant there was always a steady stream of flowers for her each day. The nurses blocked unknown visitors, insisting Seiren needed rest, and she was glad. Something of this magnitude was frankly embarrassing. The flowers were already overkill; she'd run out of vases on day one.
Loren didn't visit more often than needed to heal. Perhaps she was too busy or perhaps she knew Seiren was that uncomfortable. After Seiren's initial breakdown, she hadn't brought up the attack again, merely made idle chat and knuckled down to the healing.
Being in hospital reminded Seiren of the days at King's Academy of Magic. Everyone had a role, a little group, and their jobs. Everyone adhered to protocols and timetables. In the morning, the nurses helped patients onto chairs and gave them a wash behind drawn curtains. There were medications rounds involving heavy trolleys containing drugs and doctor rounds with harried-looking students stumbling after the seniors, and exercise sessions for those needing rehabilitations. Seiren eyed them all from behind her door; none of them visited her, though. She was exclusively under the care of Loren. From afternoon to early evening there was healing. Doctors listened to patients' chests and gave them different concoctions, nodding or shaking their heads depending on their responses. Mages who trained as medics applied green runes to wounds.
Here, though, nobody seemed to know who she was. She was just another patient. The nurses occasionally went up to her and asked if she needed help with anything and she didn't. Seiren wasn't even sure if she needed to stay in. At King's, the whispers followed wherever she went. Furtive glances came her way but darted away when her eyes swept over. People scurried off when she walked down those spreading corridors with stone statues decorating every path, wary of her glaring eyes and sharp tongue. Rooms emptied when she entered to study. Her occasional responses to Madeleine, out loud, didn't help. The students each had their own roles within friendship groups: some were the jesters, some leaders, others just followers. Seiren never fitted into a role. She didn't need one. Even the teachers, although they always looked approving with her grades, never reached out for her. Their words were always measured and spoken with care, as though wary of getting too close to her.
Loren healed her for three days straight. On the third night, she dropped a small pile of notes in her lap, bundled neatly with string. Tiny handwriting sat like little bricks for about ten pages; surprisingly thin given how much it had been used since its discovery.
"I'll loan it to you for a few days to read. It's my research on chaos magic. Guard it with your life. It'll keep you occupied whilst you're staying with us. And yes," she added, seeing Seiren open her mouth, "it's best if you stay in for a while. There's heightened security and the soldiers are searching for the mage who attacked you. Suck it up, buttercup."
Before Seiren could utter a word, Loren had hurried away, called by a nurse to see an unwell patient. Seiren, swallowing the gnawing loneliness without Madeleine, sat up and crossed her legs, propping the notes open in her lap. Her eyes scanned the neatly scribed words, hoping for a distraction.
This is a copy, replicated to the best of Loren Rummage's ability, of the first batch of notes made on chaos magic after its seizure by the king's mages.
Ah. Seiren wondered why the king's mages would seize Loren's notes and under what jurisdiction; unless deemed to be a risk to the general population, mages' research would not warrant confiscation.
Its application to the healing body has been proven over the past six months to be more efficacious than rune magic under the right circumstances, including but not limited to areas of life and death. The mystery of life and death has always been poorly understood, not least due to the fact that any experimentation involving such is heavily frowned upon and prohibited by the Council of Mages.
From the author's personal, anecdotal experience, chaos magic is at its most powerful in places of recent â that is, at most two weeks â life or death events. Accordingly, it can also be used to detect recent life or death events; efficacy is likely dependent on the user. The basis of chaos magic is equivalent exchange. Birth and death bring the circle of life into completion, although the mechanism behind the actual transfer of energy is poorly understood. It has been observed that chaos magic encouraged the body's natural energy to rejuvenate and heal, thus avoiding the surge so often associated with high doses of green runes where the maximum potential is limited by the body itself; there seems to be no apparent limit to chaos magic nor drawbacks. Indeed, some may argue it is the ultimate magic form.
Unlike the theory behind burst magic that focuses on tranquillity of mind and utilisation of pure, distilled magic cast into physical form, chaos magic is more akin to positive emotions, although other methods of casting chaos magic likely also exists.
Seiren became absorbed in the notes. Loren's attention to detail was meticulous. Every trial and results were recorded in her neat handwriting. Her theories dotted down the margin, suggesting mechanisms behind each occurrence. The clack of a military boot hitting the marble ground caught Seiren's ear. Her head snapped up. Deft fingers reassembled the notes and slid them beneath her pillow. For several seconds, there was nothing but the murmur of people in the background. She hadn't misheard. Someone from the military was here â to see her?
The sounds of a heated whispered conversation crept beneath her wooden door. Seiren swept the bedsheet off her legs and carefully pushed herself onto the ground. Her head was more steady, her feet firmer on the cold stone floor. She couldn't make out a single word but it was obvious one speaker was raging.
Curiosity piqued her brain, rotted from three days' incarceration. She padded closer to the door, goosebumps rising on her arms from the breeze outside. Night was falling earlier by the day; even though it was only mid-afternoon, the sky took on the explosion of violent purple and orange of sunset.
"...you've got it under control, right? She's already severed our ties."
"So you're just abandoning her? That's low, you idiot! That's so low!" Loren said, furious. They stood out of sight round the corner, but Seiren could just make out their words.
Seiren frowned. She thought she recognised the other speaker.
"I can't have a member of the team acting on their own agenda. You should know how it jeopardises the whole mission if not everyone is on the same path."
"Ever the militant! I thought you became a mage just to escape all that madness! Have you forgotten your compassion? What happened to the Rowan who took in stray dogs? And rescued Tylene from persecution after what that pervert did?"
Rowan Woodbead. Seiren's stomach sank. She had no intention of seeing him, at all. She crossed her fingers, hoping they would pass.
Their voices remained.
"That Rowan grew up. "
"You're not your father, Rowan!"
There was a sharp intake of breath.
"I am not him," Rowan said in a tone Seiren hadn't heard before. It was quiet, deadly.
"That girl needs your help! She has so much baggage you have no ideaâ"
"Don't I?"
Loren made a frustrated noise like a strangled cat.
"She doesn't need pity points. She won't be the first or last to lose a family to magic."
"It's a deadly gift in the wrong hands blah blah... it doesn't change the fact that she's a damn orphan who will fall into the dark side if she doesn't have a guide. Do you want her to be like Portendorfer?"
There was a heavy silence.
"Once is quite enough."
"Why are you so scared to be close to her? Can't you see she needs someone to look out for her? You've not even managed to walk beyond the front door for the past three days yet you almost beat me from Benover to the fountain that day when we found her. I live in bloody Bicknor."
"What I do is none of your business." His voice became icy. "I had responsibilities over her as her tutor. I have now relinquished that responsibility. What she chooses to do in her own time is no longer any concern of mine."
"Don't shut me out, Ro. You always do this."
"She's no longer one of mine. If she dies, it's not my loss."
"That's so warped. If she dies, just because she's not under your lead doesn't mean she's any less dead!"
"The world isn't as beautiful as you see it, Loren. Good people die; bad ones do not. You of all people should know that. Greed rules this world and those of us that survive have to play by those rules or perish. I learnt my lessons."
"What â hey!"
The clacking of military boots became fainter. Seiren leaned her head against the wooden door, frowning. Loren's calls became further away. She wasn't surprised Rowan didn't want to see her. She wouldn't want to see her after how their last meeting turned out. She deserved it, ever the ungrateful and impulsive student. She shook her head, turning so her back leaned against the wooden surface. So Rowan had cut off all ties with her. That meant she couldn't become a state mage after all. Her hands curled into fists. She'd brought this upon herself. Rowan had warned her that her temper and impertinence would bite her in the ass one day. He was right.
Her hand reached up to her throat and grasped nothing but thin air. Her chest tightened. What she would give for Madeleine right now to talk some sense in this crazy world.
The temperature plummeted as night set in. Seiren plodded across the room to slide the window shut. Her hand froze over the handle.
"I can feel your bloodlust from here," she said in a quiet voice. The heavy presence at the door emanated ominousness so suffocating she fought to keep her breaths even.
"Your observation skills are quite remarkable, Seiren Nithercott," said the newcomer in his deep voice.
Seiren turned around, meeting and then careful to not lose eye contact with his cruel eyes, watchful behind spectacles. The rest of his face sat in the shadow cast by his hood.
"My second observation is that you are not supposed to be here."
He stiffened a little at those words. She was right. He'd somehow snuck by the security at the doors, no doubt down to his status as a state mage and possibly some magic. It was quiet outside; he'd purposefully chosen this time to come in, aided by the cover of the night and the sparsity of the night staff.
Despite the thick hood, the coarse contour of his face was still visible.
"My third observation... that is some injury on your face." Seiren raised an eyebrow, ignoring her palpitating heart. "Spurned lover?"
He snorted at that and drew his hood back, glasses gleaming. A vicious streak of angry red lesions, peppered by fat blisters, crossed most of his face. Some ruptured blisters had scabbed over. He must have been once quite sophisticated-looking, judging by his crisp uniform beneath his inconspicuous black cloak, but his hair sat in patches on his head and his facial features were quite swollen. She swallowed. A state mage, but none she'd recognised, and she would recognise such a severe burn injury anywhere.
"I am a king's mage."
"Uh-huh." Seiren eyed him with suspicion. He reached out a heavily bandaged hand and awkwardly tugged up his sleeve, showing her the glowing purple runed tattoo of a state mage. Her eyes jumped back up to his face. "Pray tell, king's mage, why aren't you telling me your name and why did you have to sneak in like some common thief?"
"Our investigation is currently top secret and we would appreciate your cooperation and silence," he said, each word crisp. Seiren fought back a shudder; his injury seemed less than a week old. It must have been some fire. She stuck her chin out.
"You can come during the day like the rest of the visitors. Right now, I need rest."
She crossed the room and reached for the door. His hand shot out, grabbing hers in a vice grip. She flinched. His fingers were icy. Up close, it was obvious how severe the injuries were despite the numerous green runes that must have been used upon it already. Perhaps he had come seeking Loren's chaos magic.
"I am investigating the recent attacks on state mages."
"My answer is still unchanged."
"I am not seeking your permission, little girl." His lips curled.
"Does the king know his little pawns are playing without their master?" she shot back. He seemed unfazed.
"Tell me the purpose of the mage who attacked you."
Seiren's heart thumped against her ribs. So it was a mage who attacked her, after all. Loren's hunch was confirmed.
"I don't know."
His eyes narrowed; it was like a glacial landscape behind the lenses. "Liars will be heavily punished."
"My injuries are too severe; I'm still in too much shock to recall exactly what happened." Seiren allowed her bottom lip to tremble ever so slightly. "I am but a little girl, after all. It has been a terrifying ordeal."
His hands tightened around her wrist; his long fingers easily overlapped on her bony arm. "Your mother was never a good liar either."
Her breath caught in her throat. Her blood turned to ice.
"What do you know about my mother?" Her voice shook against her command. Seiren's hands curled into fists without her realising.
A terrifying grin spread across his face, not helped by the angry burns and broken skin.
"If you play the game right, you might know."
"What do you know?" she demanded. She made to yank her hand from his grasp, but he kept a firm hold. He looked her up and down, lingering for a second longer on her neck, before straightening his cloak's folds. He opened his mouth, but then his head jerked to one side. In one fluid movement, he covered his face in the cloak's heavy hood again with one hand, his injuries hidden from the world. He tucked something hard into Seiren's grasp before releasing her.
He turned to her one last time, eyes gleaming from the shadows.
"If you play the game right."
He seemed to walk through the door and disappear. Magic, Seiren realised. Much more advanced than she could ever do. She unfurled her fingers. Her eyes prickled. Madeleine's locket, a carved blood red stone encased in intricate silver, sat on her palm, the delicate chain she'd torn now repaired.
Seiren clutched it to her chest, her heart burning so hot she thought it would break in two. Fat tears dripped down her face. Her skin became a sea of pins and needles. Relief washed into confusion. She leaned against the wooden door, her shoulders shaking, her mouth agape in silent cries.
With trembling fingers, she fastened the clasp around her neck once more. The weight of Madeleine's soul materialised in the back of her mind, wrapping Seiren with the familiar warmth. Her sister stirred, as though awoken from a deep slumber.
Seiren curled up, the hard ground extending its icy touches up her rear. She ignored the twinges of joint aches, reaching in her mind for Madeleine.
Madeleine. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Seiren? Madeleine sounded groggy. Her presence became clearer, her mind stilled. Seiren! Oh my goodness, what happened? The last thing I remember is our fight and then... and then...
Madeleine's thought tendrils reached out. Seiren allowed her to seep in and absorb what had happened for the past three days they had been apart. Madeleine recoiled in horror, sensing Seiren's memories by the fountain.
You idiot! Madeleine's screech rang in Seiren's head, making her cringe. Running out by yourself? With no runes or chalk? And you didn't even try to fight back? Are you serious?
I... I...
You could have been seriously injured! You were seriously injured! You could have died! You might have graduated at the top of the class, but you have the intellect of a bleeding cabbage, you know that?!
I'm sorry. Seiren wanted to shrivel up and bury herself from shame.
We've had so many arguments over the years. I can't believe it takes just one to turn you into a complete self-pitying sack of manure. You're telling me you wanted to die? How dare you? You're living for both of us and you're telling me just because we had one disagreement you're willing to give up on everything?
Madeleine's pulsing fury in Seiren's mind told her that her sister would have slapped her in the face if she had a physical body.
Get over yourself, you pathetic little cow. The world isn't about you!
You told me you didn't want to come back. What else did I have left?
Madeleine screamed. You really are dumber than a freaking cockroach. Doesn't your own life mean something? You wanted to climb the ladder into a king's mage to make a difference. Doesn't that count for anything? Is your skull full of turds?
Seiren smiled despite the tears wetting her eyes. Those insults hadn't changed in six years.
Speaking of the king's mages...
Madeleine cocked her head, re-living Seiren's recollection of the conversation between her and the injured king's mage several minutes earlier.
How odd. And you've never met him before?
Well, he's a king's mage. It's not like they all prance around in public. Seiren rolled her eyes.
Mother has never mentioned any of them either.
The mention of their mother made Seiren's chest tighten again. She never speaks about work.
Would you? If you know what magic is like now, would you talk about work? And her being the level she was before she died â I know I wouldn't.
Seiren shut the window properly this time and sat in her bed, legs crossed before her. Her fingers touched Loren's notes beneath her pillow.
Well this much is obvious: the king's mages are investigating the people behind those mage attacks, and they don't want other people to know. And it's a mage that's attacking other mages. I wonder why.
Loren might know. She knows the woman who attacked me.
You trust her to talk to her?
Seiren smiled to herself. She trusted me with chaos magic research. That's worth more than any of our speculations.
I hope you're right.
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