11-years-ago
Magdelene’s mother covers her mouth to suppress a laugh at just how dirty her daughter’s dress is. She must’ve been rolling around in the dirt with the dogs again. She pats at the black jumper dress to brush off the grass and dust, then re-ties the bow on Magdelene’s head before adjusting her collar.
“Mama? Why did you name me ‘Magdelene’?” she asks.
Her mother smiles, brushing more dirt and debris from the outfit. “Because of your birthmarks, Sweetie.”
“The ones on my back?”
“That’s right.” Her mother lays a hand gently on Magdelene’s back, in-between her shoulder blades. “When I saw these birthmarks for the first time, l thought they looked like they were from an angel’s wings. So I named you ‘Magdelene’, who was the favorite of Jesus and thus the closest to Heaven.” Her mother stops and looks at her curiously. “Why do you ask?”
Magdelene twists her skirt in her hands, doing her best to avoid eye contact as if she’d done something wrong. “Some kids came over and started making fun of my name. Saying I’m named after a sinful woman. So I…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence. Doesn’t need to. Her mother can already tell exactly what she’s going to say. Her husband was against naming their daughter this for this very reason. But she was so adamant that it needed to be this name specifically and nothing else. So much so that it nearly destroyed their marriage.
She touches her forehead to Magdelene’s to make them lock eyes. “Getting angry doesn’t solve anything. That’s only giving them the reaction they want.” Magdelene doesn’t look at all convinced. But what five-year-old could understand at her age? So she kisses Magdelene’s forehead and asks, “Do you like you name?”
Magdelene frowns and wraps her arms around her mother’s neck in a hug. “I love my name! That’s why I got so angry.”
Her mother hugs Magdelene back and kisses her hair in the only comfort she can give right now
2-years-ago
Magdelene wakes up in an unfamiliar place and hisses at her headache while taking in her surroundings. White walls, white ceiling… Is that a pulse oximeter on her finger? Is she in the hospital? The last thing she remembers…
“She had every right to defend herself! Did you even see the bruises?! That man was going to do worse to her!”
“That doesn’t give her a right to almost kill him!”
‘Mom? Dad? They’re fighting again?’
She wants to get up. Wants answers. But when she tries she feels something on her wrist. Magdelene looks down to see a pair of handcuffs restraining her to the hospital bed.
She doesn’t remember much. She was in detention and her teacher was lecturing her about something. Magdelene finally stood up and talked back and got a fist to the face for her troubles.
Nausea sets in. Did something else happen? She doesn’t remember anything after. But if what her parents are saying is true… then…
“This… This can’t be possible!”
Elen doesn’t want to believe this. Neither the fact that this beast is attacking her, nor that she just magically changed into some kind of costume that Reggie would design for Halloween. And yet here she is in this fluffy, fancy dress and facing a snarling monster standing on its hind legs to show off its claws shining in the moonlight.
She glares at Fredrick and Mystia who have retreated to the bench Mikan is on, then back at the beast. “Fuck!”
Elen leaps to dodge the paws, then tuck-and-rolls under the sweeping tail. She starts running (praying that she doesn’t trip in the high heels), and looks over her shoulder to see the beast galloping towards her. Knowing she can’t escape, she bends her knees and springs to dodge another swipe of the paw.
The jump is… wow! ‘I’ve never jumped so high before,’ Elen thinks as she lands. The beast turns and sprints back to her. In retaliation, Elen executes a reverse roundhouse kick that hits it directly in the jaw. ‘My body is so light and strong!’
She kicks and punches at the beast, but Elen can tell it’s not doing much damage beyond blood dripping out of its mouth. She’s seen plenty of chickens and sheep being slaughtered, participated in it even, but this is enough to restart her gag reflexes. She swallows the bile and wipes the sweat and blood off her face before turning back to Fredrick and Mystia. “Hey!” she shouts, “You guys got some kind of weapon for me to finish this thing off?!”
“Right here!”
Elen spins around the pouncing beast and sees a light coming towards her. Instinctively, she reaches a hand out to catch it and finds that it’s a large tarot card with a picture of a dodecahedron on a starry background. Before Elen can wonder what possible way she could use it, it shifts and twists into a stick with a dodecahedron on the end.
‘A wand. Of course it’s a wand.’
The beast takes advantage of Elen’s distraction to knock her down, her head bouncing painfully on the cobblestone road. She can’t even hiss in pain when the paw pins her to the ground with claws threatening to skewer her neck. To top it all off, its foul breath, like a mixture of burning garbage, manure, and that one flower that smells of rotting flesh is making it that much harder for Elen to breathe.
The beast opens its mouth, showing off its teeth before closing in to bite Elen. She shoves the wand into the mouth much like a cartoon of someone propping open a gator’s with a stick to avoid getting eaten. The wand must be made of something incredible because it’s working like a charm.
‘This won’t last for long though. Fuck! Get the hell off of me!’
The wand shines blue and black and the next instant, the beast flies off in a flurry of butterfly-shaped lights. Elen sits back up with a coughing fit and stares at the wand that’s still glowing faintly like coals. ‘Did it react to what I wanted?’ she wonders.
Elen clutches the wand and glares at the beast. It’s wiping at its muzzle and growling low enough to make the ground vibrate. It lunges at Elen again who sweeps the wand in front of her and the blue and black butterflies cloud around it. She stands as it writhes, ready for whatever attack comes at her.
The butterflies clear and Elen sees a glow from the beast’s chest. It rights itself up to reveal a gaping, seeping wound that has some kind of shining sphere encasing an object spinning like a top in it.
“That’s the weak spot!” Fredrick shouts. That’s right. He and Mystia are here too. “Destroy it and it’ll die!”
The word “die” gives Elen some pause, but she steels her resolve. This beast nearly killed her. Nearly killed Mikan. She can’t let this thing run amok as it pleases. So Elen points the wand to the beast, focuses her mind, and releases the energy. The energy hits true and the beast screams as the butterflies assault the sphere.
Elen winces. Her back spasms. It hurts but she can’t let herself stop. So Elen bends her knees to brace herself and increases the power. It doesn’t take long until the sphere then whatever is spinning in it shatter, the shards disintegrating into the air.
The beast writhes again, pawing at its muzzle and rubbing its head on the cobblestone. All the while it screams a scream that holds so much agony that Elen wants to cover her ears. But it doesn’t last long as the beast starts to disintegrate like the object in its chest, and howls as the last of itself disappears.
The silence covers the area like a graveyard at midnight. It’s broken by Elen’s heavy breathing and the distant drip drip drip of the fountain near the entrance. ‘Did that… really just…?’
“Excellent!” Elen startles when she hears Fredrick applauding. “You did much better than I expected.”
“Not bad for your first time fighting. But you still have much to—”
“Who the fuck are you people!?” The two stop when Elen points the wand to them. She’s trembling, her eyes darting frantically between Fredrick and Mystia. “What was that thing?! And what the hell did you turn me into?!”
Fredrick holds up his hands and stays rooted in his spot, knowing better than to get close to a panicking girl. “Look, I know you’re freaking out. That’s understandable. You were in a dangerous situation and was thrown into something that—”
“—Could kill me?”
Fredrick clears his throat. “Yes. Please calm down so that we can explain?”
Elen hesitates. These people are sketchy. Every past experience is telling her that they’re going to bring her into something that will definitely get her killed or worse. But they’re also the only ones who can give her the answers she wants about all of this.
“Fine,” she snaps, lowering the wand but still on alert. “Then speak.”
“Not here.” Elen turns to where the soft, wispy voice comes from to see a man. He’s several inches shorter than Fredrick, but she can tell he’s a few years older. His long, strawberry-blond hair is tied in a low ponytail like Fredrick’s, his bangs hanging over one of his droopy green eyes. His long robes are purple and he holds a crystal ball in his hands. “We must go back to the house.” His lips barely move, as if even just the action of speaking is incredibly difficult for him.
“Alright, but we need to heal this one up and get her back to her house,” Mystia tells the man, pointing to Mikan still out cold on the bench.
“Elen,” Fredrick waves a hand at the man, “this is my cousin, David Larson Silverstein.” He gestures to Mystia who holds a hand up in a wave. “This is our partner, Mystia Daphne Dubois.”
Elen doesn’t pay much mind and instead keeps an eagle eye on David. He kneels next to Mikan’s prone figure, closes his eyes, and holds the crystal ball over her body.
“What is he doing?”
Mystia puts a hand on Elen’s shoulder, probably because she can tell she’s just about to rip David away. “Just watch.”
The crystal ball glows. Glows. Without any light source underneath it. And then Mikan glows alongside it. Elen rubs her eyes to confirm that, yes, it’s real, but why is she even surprised at this point?
Mikan’s scrapes close up and the head wound stops bleeding. Even the blood in her hair clears, as if it was never there in the first place. Elen’s heartbeat slows as Mikan’s breathing becomes more even and starts shaking even more. Elen looks to Mystia, then Fredrick, and finally to David.
‘What the fuck did I just get myself into?’
The man observes this all from the treetops, his teeth glinting in his grin.
‘Things are going much better than I’d planned.’
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