Path of Wizardry

Amy ran harder than she ever had in her life. Space compressed between each step as desperate workings sprung out to get further away from the Archmage, pushing Theft of Distance more and more. Still, wherever she went, radiant azure Starfire followed, Flares and Beams shooting towards her at her every move. Throughout it all, Harrison Clarke always seemed to be just around the corner, teleporting and following her everywhere. No matter where she found herself, his Spells were there and he soon followed. Witch's Cloak was fed every bit of mana she wasn't using for her Thefts, trying her best to throw him off her trail. Yet, somehow, it never stuck. There were moments where he seemed to stop and, like clockwork, a new piece of Spellwork locked onto her, bathing her in a new hell of flames each time. Burns wracked her entire body, making every movement a terrible ordeal to power through, slowing her down even more.

Uncomfortable thoughts kept creeping up on her, spelling the reality of the situation out for her. She was losing and if things didn't change soon, she'd be done for.

This was supposed to be easy. A delusion she could see a mile away now, but seemed so reasonable only a day ago. How clouded must her mind have been to make facing a former Archmage seem simple? Everything she was driven towards was to make facing the Archmage as feasible as possible. First, it was only to investigate him. Then, breaking into his actual home. And when she had confirmation that he was actually a Journeyman, how eager had she been to actually pursue him? If it wasn't for Felin reeling her back in she would've faced him almost straight away, all so eager to assert her superiority and demonstrate her Law to the world.

Amy would've died nearly instantly if she did that.

Unprepared as she was, she would've fallen to the first Starfire Spell flown her way, let alone the things she had to contend with currently. Was this how death felt like? Looking back and grieving your past mistakes and regrets as they flashed before your eyes? Was she dying then? Or was the energy draining from her as her strength was slowly sapped, burn after burn, nothing to worry about?

Dodging yet another Bolt - or some other similarly-named Spell - flying towards her, a sardonic chuckle escaped her; a laugh that turned to a cry when it scorched her back. The Archmage's Spells always seemed to hit, even when they were a little off. It was almost as if space itself was bending to make them land, like the targets were attracted to the stars he commanded by some strange gravity. Amy supposed it would make sense for a Mage who commanded Stars to specialise in Elements of Fire and Space. And she also supposed she was growing a bit insane at her impending doom to ponder and appreciate an enemy Mage's Magicks.

Moving again, she leapt through a window of an abandoned home and stole the distance between her and the next house over, appearing directly in front of the door. Runes attempted to penetrate her mind and were batted away by the adrenaline of the situation. Before she knew it she was inside, waiting for the next attack, the next Spell, the next opportunity, and the next escape. How long had she been doing this for? She hadn't a clue.

Why are the houses even abandoned? You'd think some of them would be populated but there's been nothing. Have they been scared away by the two Mage's fighting? Has word spread far enough that there's no more burned corpses for me to see? More innocents I've gotten caught up in my crimes? More homes and lives I'm trampling through and ruining?

Seconds passed like treacle, Amy constantly on guard looking out for the next thing to dodge, the next thing to fight through, the next thing to make her hurt. And it didn't come.

Her unspoken question was answered not a moment later.

"Have you not had enough, Witch?" The arrogant voice of Harrison Clarke seemed to come from every direction, his voice full of a tyrant's conviction. "Have you not made enough people suffer for your madness? Just give up. I do not know what you're planning, holding back like this, but it won't achieve a thing. Show your true colours to the world, and be consumed by the righteous fist of the Empire."

He thought she was... holding back? Holding... back?

"You are powerful, agent of The Forgetting, but you cannot possibly contend against the city's forces. Give up what you know and you might be treated favourably. Think of the good you can do for the world. Think of what you can achieve if you work with us instead of against. I don't know what pushed you into this life of hate and Forgetting, but it isn't too late for change. Just... reconsider, please."

Why is he trying so hard to bargain with me? Does he think... Of course he does. He believes I'm a higher Tier Mage, someone to do with this so-called Forgetting. Why would he try to negotiate with me otherwise? Does that mean he wants me alive too? Rather than trying to kill me, he keeps going for ways to suppress me. He hasn't been missing, he's been going easy on me. He didn't want to raze the entire crater with fire, he wanted to catch me out and contain me.

At that, something finally broke. Mad laughter was the only sound that filled silent slums as Amy bent backwards and cackled like the Witch she rightfully was. That's right. I'm a criminal. I caused all of this because of my selfishness. I killed all of these people, not Harrison. He didn't even try to talk with me. He attacked first and talked later. He was the one who caught all these people up in this and for what? For glory? For pride? That he'd try to take it all for himself instead of sharing it with others? This great bounty of the Witch? And now he has the gall to ask me to reconsider. As if he hasn't had a multitude of chances to stop what he was doing and actually take it seriously. I could've been dead and all of these people spared. No.

He wanted this.

He wanted me to fight back. He wanted this to be a challenge.

The little mana left within her pool roiled with rage. Anger fuelled it with passion, passion that gave it just enough energy, just enough will, to fight and persist, to dance and dance and dance forever more. Around and around it spun and spun, whirling around in the eye of a great and gathering storm. Pure power coalesced around her, the potential of sheer untamed possibility all trickling towards her.

Archmage Harrison Clarke wanted a challenge.

A challenge he would receive.

Myriad strands of her own innate mana rose up, wrapped in Pure roaring currents. They stabbed directly into her beating heart, thumping out of her chest with enough force to make her breathless. Intertwining with each muscle and fibre of the organ, Amy began to feel the parts that made her being living; the blood, the essence of her lifeforce, flowing through her. And that same moment, she began to feel the pressure on her mind grow.

This wasn't like the Apprentice ascension, where her brain did the work for her. No. Here, she was wrangling each cell of her own blood into order, her own brain ripping itself into shreds trying to concentrate on it all. It was all too much, threatening to overwhelm her.

Then, Felin's advice came back to her.

Five gates. Not blood, gates. Her focus waned, an action that felt wrong to her and yet it was the only thing that could save her. Attention shifted from that of the blood to the vessel that pumped it, the valves that separated the blood, organising and moving it through her entire body.

It entered, dead, useless, lifeless, without potential. One.

It flowed to the lungs, where life was breathed into it. Two.

It swam back to the heart, ready to be put to work. Three.

It travelled to the rest of the body, spreading energy. Four.

Finally, it came full circle. An unbreakable cycle of possibility, the ignition and consumption of it for life and existence. And that part of the process seemed to resonate with the mana more than anything she had ever felt.

Thump.

The entire meditation required focus, yes, perhaps even the power of an Apprentice's enhanced mind but it was nowhere near what she was attempting before. This was simpler. Maybe not easier, rather simpler.

Thump.

Mana almost seemed to beat her heart for her, demanding more of it than it currently was. It desired ascension.

Thump.

Blood circuited her entire body, filling every vessel to the brim. And each blood cell carried a single mote of possibility, a single promise of something greater.

Thump.

That promise spread to other parts of the body, infusing her other organs, her muscles, her bones, her nerves, everything.

Thump.

All of a sudden, it intensified, the blood itself reaching back towards the heart. And, somehow, if it was even possible, it became stronger.

Thump.

No. That was wrong. It wasn't a mere strengthening, a mere enhancement.

Thump.

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In fact, not even her mind was a subject of mere enhancement.

Thump.

No. It was a deepening of purpose. An expansion of possibility.

Thump.

It was...

Thump.

An ascension.

Thump.

Mana exploded and everything was unleashed.

* * *

Archmage Harrison Clarke watched impassively as the Witch ruminated over her options. At least, that was the appearance she was projecting to him, but he could see as clear as day the mana thrumming in the centre of that house, building to something powerful. All he needed to be was prepared for whatever she might have in store for him. No stone was left unturned, no possibility not considered, and he was beginning to be sure that he had covered every base.

Smiling to himself, Fire crackled playfully between his fingertips, waiting to be put to work, to burn its target and extinguish their life. However, he must restrain himself. He had let himself go, pleasing himself with new subjects, new things to burn but now, he must hold back. Whilst his Spell repertoire didn't have anything to subdue his targets - forcing him to exhaust her instead - this was the one thing he must bring back alive. And after how much he had worked to ensure it, he was going to let her die so easily.

His patience was running low however, and he must act lest the Witch act in his stead.

Speaking up, his voice Spatially projected into the house, he began, "Witch—"

And that was all he managed to say before the house disappeared.

Unknowable enveloped all, billowing out from her new body like pitch-black smog. Drifting inside its twists and currents were twinges of Fae, inserting themselves onto reality, bending itself to its demands that she was hidden, that she was not to be seen, not even to be known.

At the centre of it all, finally obscured from the Archmage's Sight, floated Amy. Pure mana infused every part of her body with new possibilities and yet something was different compared to her past ascension. It wasn't merely Pure this time; the unmistakable colour of Fae and Unknowable corrupted the wonderful purity of its ordinary hue. More things to be cautious of, more evidence of what Felin had warned. And this time, she would take it seriously.

Felin had also told her the rush from ascension would be more noticeable at Journeyman. He had severely understated how noticeable it was.

Mana coiled under her grip, her physical body somehow grasping and manipulating it. The mana within her flexed filling her every corner, her heart pumping pure ecstasy through her arteries as much as it did blood. The major physical changes would be slow, but this? This was power.

Fae came to her quicker than ever, a twist of a working stealing the distance between her and the Archmage, and this time she wasn't unprepared. Her Witch's Cloak seemed to seep into her skin, merging with the Unknowable that already began to corrupt her self, pushing its Magick beyond merely Tier 4 or even the 5th she was forcibly elevating it too. It stood on the shoulders of giants and looked eye-to-eye with the towering opponent before her. Spellforms danced in her mind, one in particular coming to her before the rest.

The Archmage tried to react, tried to run at the newest confusing development the Witch had pulled, but his attempt was foiled with but a word. Mana from her body pulsed into her mouth, verdant Fae swallowing it all, as the Command slipped out of her:

"Stay."

This time, she didn't even need to repeat it.

His latest teleport Spell failed mid-cast, the Spatial mana exploding and corroding his face, spilling blood and exposing bone. Mana-hewn flesh crawled to replace it but it didn't have the time before fist met face in a boom of mana-enhanced strength, breaking the Archmage. Before she could react again, he teleported away towards somewhere she couldn't see.

But she didn't need to, not as she was currently. Her working wasn't a teleport, as Felin had outright stated. It was a Theft of Distance and in this space she had established, this world of Unknowable fog, her Laws triumphed. The intent of his teleport, his direction became a separation and one that was stolen with ease.

This time, he was the one running and now she could see the despair creep up on his face as she seamlessly closed the distance. Deranged, Amy laughed as she punched out again, mana burning under the cords of her muscles, enhancing her every movement and erasing the fleeting pain of the burns. His face met her knuckles again and a loud crack rang out as his face was smashed further.

Archmage Harrison Clarke scuttled off, teleporting away yet again.

And the Witch followed.

Archmage Harrison Clarke was running for his life.

There had been an entirely new development, one he couldn't have ever expected. The Witch was supposed to be a reawakened Archmage, one of the perpetrators of The Forgetting, not some random Mage woman he could find on the street. It wasn't some great scheming villain who had evaded him, no. It was a mere Apprentice. A damned Apprentice girl had dared to defy him and now he was paying the price for his insolence.

How had a 'mere' Apprentice fooled and misled a skilled team of investigators and the Monarchs themselves? How had she fooled him? Except, she wasn't a 'mere' Apprentice any more.

An eruption in the Mana Ocean alerted him, breaking him from his mania, as the Witch caught up, yet again closing the distance between them without him realising. He recognised the flare of ambient mana around her, her black hair and purple eyes becoming richer, her existence infused by the rush of mana upon her ascension. Somehow, she had ascended, becoming a Journeyman in truth. Here he was, fighting on the same Tier as her, his mana pool drained and his opponent in the throes or her baptism, wielding more power than she probably even realised.

And she was after him.

Archmage Harrison Clarke fled faster.

Another Theft collapsed the distance between the pair and this time Spells were ready waiting for her. Rockets of brilliant Starfire blasted towards her, attempting to skewer her completely through and burn her out from the inside. Only, the mana raging all around her dripped with the stench of Unknowable, a corruption that intensified at the first sign of danger. Unknowable tentacles lashed out, seeming eerily like the manifestations she had seen in her first Mirror Walk. Each one wrapped around the Spells and smothered them until they lost their way, fizzling out like dying stars. These stars, however, did not explode into magnificent supernovas and instead dissolved.

With Fae rising up alongside the Unknowable, her blood surged with righteous justice, the Element infusing her every being as she fought to put the one who'd broken her Laws to the sword. Another punch lashed out, faster than the Archmage could react alongside yet another Command.

"Falter."

The scum collapsed into a heap, barely able to move, as her Command seeped into his being, overpowering him completely. Amy didn't hear his whimpers as she lifted him up by his neck, clenching tightly. Unknowable's tendrils curled around her Witch's Robe, her resentful face made demonic, a suddenly appearing Monstrous Visage piercing through her victim's mind.

Her purple eyes stared deep into this murderer's and found him wanting. She had met him before, yes, but this was the first time she really saw him. He was young, though that didn't mean much at his Tier. He could've been 20 or 100 and he'd look the same. Amy recognised the immaturity though. She'd seen it on the face of every noble she had seen at that ball, everyone from criminal to governor that had a scrap of ambition. The arrogant, petulant look that they gave those they perceived below them. Each and every time it told the same story, what was running through their stupid heads. The knowledge that they were superior. The desire. The nobility.

This was the man who killed Brook.

This was the man who killed her bird.

This was the great Archmage Harrison Clarke, prodigious son of a Monarch.

This was her worst enemy.

And, at this moment, he seemed so weak.

The Spell dug deep and he was sobbing before he knew it, frantic hysteria overwhelming. Pathetically, the Archmage tried everything he could imagine, yet her Unknowable aura crushed all his attempts. That was when an odd look of realisation lit up his eyes, and one of his many expensive rings burst to life, orange mana infusing him with just enough strength to break free.

Her magic fell apart as Spatial mana came together faster than she could react, clearly not the working of the Archmage but his magical item. A strange fog engulfed him and formed a barrier between the two Mages, her hand coming up against a wall. Familiar despair swarmed in as she saw everything she had accomplished falling apart in front of her. He was being swept away. And there was nothing she could do.

Only, not all hope was lost. She still had one more trick up her sleeve, one Felin had said to never try without him. Innate mana poured out of her fingertips the colour of Fae and springtime enveloped all.

Archmage Harrison Clarke had finally escaped into his safe-room, father's Ring of Retreat flaring up at the last second, saving him from a horrible and gruesome death at the hands of that girl. The ring kept his adrenaline flowing and stopped him from collapsing from exhaustion and fright, though he almost wished it hadn't. Peace would be granted at last. All he could remember was that face, the horrific visage he couldn't even remember yet plagued his every thought, dragging him down to the depths of despair.

When a disturbance in the Ocean flared behind him, Harrison thought it would be father, his Ring telling him that his son had been attacked. Instead, the Archmage saw a crack in reality, stretching back to where he had gated from, the passage reopened. The Witch was there in all her glory, viridescent green dancing around her in a cloud of slithering snakes. She charged through the dimensional tear as if nothing around her could affect her. The unstable passage was clawing at her in terrible rifts of Spatial mana yet she was unharmed. Green corrupted the familiar Spatial colour of the passageway and the Magick shattered, setting her down right in front of him. In his safe-room. With nowhere to run or hide. And no ring to save him.

Something stabbed into him before he could block it and, at a single word, Harrison's thoughts fled—

"Sleep."

—into Amy's mana, an Unknowable Command sealing his mind. He fell completely unconscious, hitting the stone floor hard. It was done.

Sliding down one of the walls, she glanced at the wounded Archmage on the floor, his young face stained with the same injuries he had peppered her with the entire fight. Amy didn't know how long she stared at her victim, her perception of time completely shot. It was as she struggled to stay awake that something coherent finally came to her, looking away and down at the bloody hands of a stranger resting across her raised legs.

"...Pathetic."