Universe One; The Game of Lives
By Thomas Baskerville
Chapter 6; Scars
Staff opened his eyes with slight distain as his ears pricked to the sound of footsteps approaching. He was calmly slouched on a bland wooden throne, deep in the forest night. The Byw army had pulled back into the trees and made camp just a kilometre away from where he was currently sat. He’d wrongfully assumed that he’d be able to enjoy some peace and quiet this far away.
“Approach.” He sighed. Two Elves emerged from the surrounding trees to cautiously approach him as commanded.
“We apologise, oh God of Magic.” One of them nervously spoke up, “Was the grand tent not to your liking?” He asked. Staff quietly took a moment to consider what the Elf was referring too. It then clicked. The massive tent the generals had set up for him. A grand act of generosity that he’d completely ignored.
“This world is my tent, mortal. I need no further comforts.” Staff answered. The Elf bowed.
“Of course, divine one. Forgive our ignorance.” He pleaded of him. Staff rolled his eyes.
“You are forgiven.” He quietly muttered to give them both a sense of relief. Interacting with mortals wasn’t normally Staff’s cup of tea. Not in his base form at least. He much preferred to observe as the mysterious stranger of zero status.
“We also bring news of the Avalonian woman.” The second Elf spoke up, in a rather obvious attempt to be of some interest to Staff.
“Yes…” Staff muttered, “I would at some point like to talk to that young woman. Once she has finished being treated.”
“Well…” The second Elf nervously mumbled. Staff raised a curious eyebrow. He’d certainly gotten his attention now, but seemed to now regret it, “You see, divine one… she left.”
“Left?” Staff immediately boomed. Both Elves dropped to their knees.
“Yes, your holiness.” The first Elf confirmed, “The second she could walk, she pushed our healers aside and vanished into the night.” Staff slowly sat up from his slouched comfort, “We attempted to track her but…”
“Thank you for the update.” He calmly spoke as he slowly got to his feet, “I have another matter to attend to. I’ll be back before the magma cools to rock.” They both bowed their heads as Staff seemed to pause for a second.
Right. He was still in war state. He’d forgotten and had tried to flash away. He peered at the two Elves, who were clearly too busy worshiping him to have noticed his slight blunder. He snapped his fingers instead, “Portal.” He chanted. Once again space tore itself apart at his command.
***
Right at the edge of the small town of Freedom, behind the house that sat at the very end of the singular road, Staff calmly stood, with his back slouched against the wooden doorframe of the back door to Cathie’s house. His eyes were distant, staring out into the woods beyond, although not looking for anything in particular. He seemed a little bored but also made no attempt to entertain or distract himself from such boredom.
Merlin had spent lifetimes studying the figure before him. He’d had many enlightening conversations with him too, but those had been many, many years prior. The old wizard stepped out of the shadows and began to pace towards the almost statue like God figure casually before him. Staff’s eyes immediately snapped to meet the gaze of his frail eyesight.
“It’s been a while, Staff.” Merlin spoke up as Staff straightened himself out.
“I thought I could sense a faint whiff of magical power.” Staff seemed to mutter to himself. Merlin responded with a weak smile. The most powerful and knowledgeable mage in the whole of the Gameworld was still but a ‘whiff’ compared to Staff’s norm.
“A rather spectacular display you put on earlier.” Merlin continued, making sure to get to the point as quickly as possible. He knew all too well how fickle Staff’s patience was when it came to small talk. Staff’s eyes narrowed rather sharply.
“I didn’t realise you enjoyed watching such barbaric scenes.” Staff shot back at him.
“Normally warfare isn’t my cup of tea, as well you know Staff.” Merlin muttered, “But today something drew me to the centre of the map. Now I know why.”
“I take it you are seeking answers?” Staff asked. Merlin took a second to consider his next words very carefully.
“I think any questions I have; I alone hold the tools to answer in time.” He answered, “But others do not hold the means to satisfy their same curiosity.” He then pointed out, “Which leads me to the one question I think I will need your assistance with.”
“You of all people know how rarely I answer questions Merlin.” Staff quietly muttered, “Do you really want to waste such a valuable thing on what your about to ask?” He then asked. This time, Merlin narrowed his eyes. He could see something new behind the eyes of the God before him. Something he’d only ever heard tales of, never yet seen with his own two eyes until this very moment.
“What could have made a man like you display such dangerous magic?” Merlin asked, completely ignoring Staff’s warning. For what he’d seen, was a man desperate to not be asked one very specific question. Staff’s firm hand slowly took a hold of the collar to Merlin’s fire red magical robes. The Elven Admin took one single step forwards to tower over the old man with a glare that could kill the faint of heart.
“Of the handful of questions, you’ve ever had the gall to ask of me…” Staff muttered in a voice so calm it sent shivers down Merlin’s spine, “That is the most dangerous one by far.”
“The reason I asked in the first place.” Merlin calmly shot back. His old, wise, soft face firmed up and threw a fiery glare of his own. The glare of an old mentor confronting someone who’d made a mistake like no other. Staff let go of the man with a sigh of irritation. Of course, he’d asked not to get an answer, but to get that very reaction. Rare was it that someone could turn Staff’s own words against him. Merlin had done so with a single look.
“You pick your battles well, old man.” He muttered, with the same irritation. It was rare that Merlin ever offered advice to Staff, normally it was the other way around, but today was very different, “But you’ve made your point.”
“Good.” Merlin firmly spoke, “Now you understand the difficult path your actions have set in motion.” He stated, “The admins hold the power to reshape the world with a single misstep.” He then quoted, “Your own words to me one hundred years ago. One hundred years since the Gameworld nearly fell to complete chaos, not at the hands of the people, but at the hands of its OWN GODS!” He exclaimed, “Tomorrow, because of you, the sun will shine on a different world than the one it set on. I pray to The Creator himself that it is a better one… but experience has taught me better than to hope for such a miracle.”
Merlin straightened out his collar, then took two steps back from Staff. The Elven Admin remained silent. Making it clear how right the old man was, “I’ve watched this world for thousands of years. Granted still a blink of the eye compared to your lifetime, Staff the Wise, but long enough to see a pattern. You are playing a game of lives. At least in your arrogance, if you must play such a game, play to win… for all our sakes.”
With those words spoken, Merlin snapped his fingers. A dark oak magical staff appeared from a spark of dazzling fire. A staff rather similar to Staff’s own unique weapon of choice. A dark oak staff lined with magical circles and enchantments. The key difference was the magical crystal at its top. Merlin’s crystal was blood red in colour compared to Staff’s, which was perfectly clear. It was also noticeably smaller too, but despite that, it could still hold a terrifying amount of magical power. The staff’s red crystal flared bright red as magical power was poured into the object from Merlin’s frail hands. The very same magical power seemed to now swell around the old mage himself, “Lightning Magic, Master Level, Accelerate.” He chanted.
“Levitate.” A faint whisper echoed from Merlin’s staff. The old man lifted into the air, then shot of, tearing through the sky as fast as a bolt of lightning.
Staff was left alone with his thoughts for a few silent moments. Yet the display of Merlin’s magic had lit a slight smile on his face. The old fart had picked up a new trick since they’d last spoken. Despite Merlin’s wisdom and age, at heart the man was akin to a child showing off his latest toy. Staff returned to his waiting position and remained for a further half hour until his distant eyes finally caught movement.
Slow, sluggish and heavy steps. The pace of a dying cub abandoned by its mother. The faint movement of bloodred hair was hard to miss against the midnight black and grey of the forest beyond. He patiently watched and waited as a wounded Cathie struggled to limp her way towards him. Each step a clear struggle, each movement seemed to bring a sharp pain she was now struggling to shrug off. Her walk had been long and clearly slow and gruelling, but that had been what she’d signed up for by leaving as injured as she was.
Her left arm was pressed against the cut on her chest, while her right used her heavy, blood steel blade as a makeshift walking stick. As she passed the tree line, she gave a small sigh of relief. Her eyes trailed up to search for her own back door, to meet Staff’s casually looking back at her. She froze stiff out of a mixture of surprise, and the ensuing pain the surprise had caused her.
“Rather rude to walk off before I could thank you.” Staff spoke up.
“I recall you doing something similar when I invited you into my bed.” She threw back as she winced with pain. Staff opened his mouth to fire back but then silenced himself as his own mind caught up with his mouth. She’d seen through his disguise. No one saw through his disguise. Not even the most powerful of mages within this world had the means of seeing through his tricks. How had a woman with zero magical capabilities seen through such perfectly crafted magic?
Before he could ask her, he watched as she lost consciousness mid step. She fell forwards, but with a strong gust of wind, Staff’s arms were suddenly there to catch her. His eyes turned to her health bar. The healers had sealed her wound but not yet restored any health. The woman had walked through the midnight forest on single figure health. Had she hit the ground, the impact would have killed her.
He gave a heavy sigh as he lifted her body properly into his arms. He turned, walked over to her back door, and kicked it open.
***
Cathie awoke to the faint chirping sound of the morning birdcall. A delicate symphony rising with the light of the sun over the peaks of the Edge Mountains. She felt warm, comfort. The intolerable pain from when she was last conscious had lessened dramatically. The warmth was radiating from the same direction as the ever-moving light of a flame, the same direction as the crackle of burning wood. Her fireplace, the centrepiece of her living room. She was laid down on her sofa, with a thick wolf hide blanket wrapped around her. She slowly wriggled herself out of the comfortably tight wrap and sat herself up to investigate the one sound she could not account for.
A gentle, rhythmic creaking. Her eyes quickly snapped to the source. A wooden rocking chair slowly swaying back and forth. Facing towards the flames, away from her. The figure sat upon the rocking chair was slightly obscured, but he was also a man hard to mistake for anyone else. Even from behind, his divine radiance shone brighter than the flames lighting the room. Shone brighter than the daybreak sunshine beaming through the glass windows either side of the mantlepiece. She leant sideways a small tad to peer ahead of him. Staff held a book in his hands as he quietly continued to read. His attention seemingly fixed solely on the words before him. The book was of high quality. Thick parchment with the slightest hints of a magical shimmer on the edges of each page. A hardback magic book. Such an item was as expensive as the rarest diamonds and rubies the world could offer. She squinted her eyes to try and peak at the small text that seemed a little too uniform and perfect to have been written by hand and quill. Yet no familiar words presented themselves to her. A foreign language. She’d heard of dragon tongue, and the language of ancients, but she’d seen examples of both before. This was neither. It was something completely new, yet the Elven Admin continued his reading, clearly having no issue translating the words.
She watched intently as he turned the page. Her eyes caught the glimpse of a drawing. A picture. That, she stood a better chance of understanding. She squinted once more, focusing on the drawing barely within her view. A sketch of an herbal leaf. Cathie knew little about magic, but she was fairly certain the only kind that involved herbs was healing magic. She looked down at her own chest, and rolled the blanket further down so she could inspect her cut. A lingering scar was painted clean across her belly, where the wound had been. She then noticed that her clothes were no longer on her body. She was completely bare other than the blanket. She pulled the wolf hide back over herself in a flurried panic.
“Feeling better?” Staff calmly muttered. He’d clearly picked up on the noise of her panic. Yet he remained focused on the book in his hands as he continued to rock on his chair. He flicked another page during the few seconds pause as he awaited an answer.
“Yes.” She finally spoke up, “Where are my clothes?” She then quickly added.
“Currently your makeshift pillow.” He rather calmly answered. Yet again not turning to address her. She looked behind her to find her leather jacket, shirt, trousers, and undergarments neatly folded where her head had been resting. She quickly snatched the undergarments first and haphazardly began putting them on while trying to remain under the blanket.
“I take it your responsible for the healing?” She then asked him as she grabbed her trousers next and slipped them on under the blanket as well.
“I am.” He simply answered after flicking another page in his book, “Not something I was expecting to do, mind you.” He then added, “I’d have assumed a hunter would have kept stock of healing potions but… none in the entire house.” Cathie grabbed her shirt next, and shifted the blanket to only now cover her chest, “Seems just as suicidally stupid as charging in between two Gods… so… I guess I should have seen it coming in hindsight.”
“I’m…” She stuttered as she finished the last few buttons of her red shirt, “Allergic to health potions.” She revealed. Staff quietly closed his book.
“Now that’s a first for me.” He muttered, “Which I’m sure I don’t have to tell you… doesn’t happen often.” He leant back in his rocking chair and gave a small sigh. Cathie lowered the blanket and grabbed her leather jacket. She slowly got to her feet and put it on. Her eyes then looked down as she felt something off. Something different to how her clothes had felt before she’d passed out. The shirt and jacket were void of blood, nor were they wet. If they’d been cleaned, it had been more than long enough for them to be bone dry now. The slice on both, matching the scar on her belly was also now repaired. A fine display of expert needlework had restored both to almost perfect condition.
“I wasn’t even aware you could use healing magic.” She muttered as Staff gently sat the book in his hands onto his lap. His eyes now fixed on the dancing flames of the fire. She was caught a little off guard as Staff remained silent at her comment for just a tad longer than she expected. She’d stumbled onto a complicated topic that he had to put a little more thought than usual into responding to.
“My history with healing magic is… rocky.” He quietly answered, “I haven’t used it in thousands of years.” He then revealed. He took hold of the book with one hand, raised it clearly into her line of sight and gave it a gentle shake, “To the point I had to relearn it even.”
“The Great Staff the Wise… relearning magic?” She questioned. She focused on the front of the book now it was clearly in view. Once again words she didn’t recognise even slightly, but the hard, treated leather shimmering with magic was certainly a breathtaking sight to behold. The vibrant green colours of leaves lining the edges of the cover. The title words surrounded by a white, almost divine glow, originating from a single, majestically colourful flower that was the centrepiece and main subject of the cover artwork. She was no expert in tomes or books, but the cover alone was unmistakably priceless just for its art.
“Rather ironic I’d end up teaching myself… of all people.” Staff muttered as his fingers tapped a line of words right at the bottom of the artwork. Likely the name of the author, yet just like the rest of the text, Cathie couldn’t tell what it said.
“What language is that?” She asked him. Staff finally turned her way, and double blinked. He then nodded his head, as if he’d just remembered something obvious.
“Right…” He muttered, “I forget you lot don’t know this dialect.”
“It’s nothing like dragon tongue or ancient text.” She commented as she tried one last time to find any recognisable patterns within.
“This, is the language of my world.” Staff revealed. His fingers once again tapped the small inscription at the bottom of the cover page, “Written by Sam Thomson.” He then quoted.
“The fake name you used.” Cathie realised. Her eyes then looked upon the book with a fresh perspective. A book written in his fake name, in a language belonging to the world of the Gods. Her eyes widened as she realised, she was looking upon an original spell book. Written by Staff the Wise himself upon the creation of the Gameworld.
“It’s not exactly a fake name.” He sighed, “But I’m getting side tracked. I’m not here to give you a history lesson.”
“No… but you took the time to heal my wounds despite the many inconveniences.” Cathie quickly pointed out, “And you also stuck around to ensure I was alright… not typical admin behaviour.”
“I stuck around because I have questions.” Staff immediately shot down as he got to his own feet. With a snap of his fingers, the book in his hand vanished without a trace, “Such as how you saw through my illusions.” He continued as he stepped between her and the warmth of the flames. Her body shuddered ever so slightly from the cold air that clawed its way into his long casting shadow, which completely enveloped her.
“Your eyes.” She answered as she stepped forwards to now stand face to face with him, “You change your face, your looks, but your eyes are like no one else’s.” She explained, “Ice cold, ancient… but deep, deep within, a spark like nothing else in this world.” Staff quietly considered her words carefully. A flaw in his spell that he’d been completely unaware of. Such a slight detail that no one throughout this world’s existence had noticed it, until now.
“I wasn’t aware of such a flaw… your certainly perceptive to have noticed such a detail.” He commented, “But that is not my only question.”
“I was under the impression we were answering one another. My turn to ask, your turn to answer.” Cathie rather boldly spoke up to him. His eyes twitched with irritability, but the man remained patiently silent, holding his question, “An admin doesn’t show up in a place like this for no reason, especially not disguised… what were you after that night?”
“I can’t answer that.” He rather coldly responded, “The excuse you gave made for coming to my rescue might have made sense in the moment, but upon reflection it doesn’t hold up.” He then pressed, digging into his own question after tactfully swatting her own aside, “Fighting a god to defend your home.” He mused, “No… the woman who ran at the sight of a dragon wouldn’t have charged forwards…” He pointed out, “The truth. Now.” He then demanded.
“I…” She stuttered. Staff raised an eyebrow as her cheeks began to fluster ever so slightly, “Your eyes.” She repeated, “It was only a glimpse. Through the chaos of Gods clashing… I saw your eyes, and saw it was you…” She confessed, “But the ice in your heart was far deeper than before… the spark so distant… You were like an undead wielding the destruction of a forest fire, without a care in the world…” She explained, “My heart couldn’t take it. I wanted so badly to shatter that ice… before I knew it, my legs began to move.”
The two of them stood in silence. The ever so subtle crackle and snap of burning wood seemed to quiet as well, as if aware of the events of the room.
“My heart isn’t so easily fixed.” Staff eventually muttered. His intense, interrogative tone of voice and general glare had both softened.
“Says the man who wielded magic untold in this world to save me.” She responded. Her eyes glanced up at his health bar. Still covered in a shield value instead of actual health points. His shield had recovered slightly, roughly a sixteenth of its total value, “Perhaps you should have used some healing magic for yourself.” Staff’s face relaxed into an ever so slight smile.
“It’s not health points, so healing won’t have any affect.” He revealed, “That’s why Axe retreated when he did. The only way to recover is through natural regeneration.”
“So, by stepping between you both, I got you to put a whole war on ice.” She pointed out.
“For now.” He added, “But I’d advise against pulling such a stunt again.” He warned. Staff took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and turned away from her, “I’d advise rest for the next few days.” He told her as he began to walk towards the door, “Healing magic has its limits, even in my han-” Staff stopped, and looked down at the hand that had grabbed a hold of his.
Cathie took a second to simply stare at her hand, holding onto his wrist. She’d half expected her skin to catch fire, so casually grabbing a hold of such a divine figure. His pale skin was oddly normal to the touch. No different than her own. While he was disguised, it made sense his skin had felt normal but… she was touching a God… and he felt so very human.
“I…” She stuttered, “I need to know… that night…” She continued. Her voice shaking as her confidence did battle with the fear of confronting an answer, she dreaded like nothing else, “It wasn’t some trick… some calculated plan for your own end…” Staff turned around to face her. He raised up the hand she’d grabbed and stepped closer to her.
“No.” He simply answered as their eyes locked, “That was real.” He added as his hand then gently settled on the left side of her cheek. His long, thin, mage-soft fingers gently brushed her blood red hair behind her ear. She watched as the spark she’d seen mere hints of before, flared within his eyes. Genuine feelings. But before it could sparkle out of control, the ice set back in after the flash of deep pain. An old scar keeping the spark at bay, “But one best not repeated, for both our sakes.” His hand gently removed itself from her ruby red cheek.
He turned, leaving her stunned and speechless. The air tore itself apart before her, bathing her in purple light. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. The remnants of his magic faded as the air calmed and collected itself.
***
Inside the spire of the Tower of Peace was a large open circular room with a staircase that ran along the wall in a spiral all the way to the top. No torches were present within the room, not even along the staircase, yet the tall room was perfectly illuminated. A luminous circle at the dead centre of the tower, on the floor, was the main source of the light in the room. From this circle, the banister for the staircase began like a twisting vine of smooth metal that also glowed, although not as brightly.
Stuck in the centre of the white glowing circle was a black single-handed sword, stuck blade down into the floor. A contrast to the white décor of the rest of the tower, clearly this blade was of importance to the tower. No one ever touched it, mainly because no one ever dared. The blade seemed to let people know that it was not theirs to touch and gave the impression that it could very much do something about it.
The only other things of note about this room were the two entrances to it. One at the very top, which led into the disk of the tower, and one at the bottom, which led to the outside world. Staff stood between the open bottom door and the glowing central circle; his eyes fixed on the light source. Behind him, two tower guards stood either side of the open door. One holding his spear like before, and a second shorter guard holding a hammer. Both of them in their signature white armour which covered every part of them. Without the height difference and choice of weapon, it would have been impossible to work out that this shorter guard was a dwarf.
After a few minutes without any interruption, the guard with the spear walked forwards to stand to Staff’s side.
“Still no change I’m afraid.” The guard spoke as he folded his arms. Unlike Staff, the guard’s gaze instead fell upon the sword, which clearly meant more to him than the circle of light did, although only just.
“I’d assumed so. After all these years, if anything had changed by now, nothing on this map could get between you and informing me.” He quietly muttered.
“I know it is not my place to talk about such personal matters, but something has clearly rattled you.” The guard spoke up. Staff remained silent at his words for a few seconds, but not out of irritation or distain. He turned his head towards the guard not as some nobody beneath him, but as a response to the concerns of a dear friend.
“An old wound reopened.” He finally admitted.
“I’m surprised it took this long. Sooner or later you were bound to find someone else.” The guard lightly chuckled. His hand raised and grabbed a hold of his white helmet. He removed it and looked Staff dead in the eyes.
“I have no intention of repeating the past James.” Staff muttered as angrily as he could act, but it wasn’t fooling the man one bit. His words were filled with pain and sorrow more than anything else.
James appeared human, yet his eyes were clearly as old as Staff’s. A long, hidden history remaining just behind his eyelids. Wisdom only immortality could grant. His mouth quibbled with worry about Staff’s response.
“Now that the wound is opened once more, perhaps you should see that it is properly healed this time, before it becomes a permanent scar.” He suggested as the sound of horses caught his attention.
The two of them turned to face the door to watch a large carriage come to a slow halt outside. Out bumbled Egill, with assistance from the second guard, who had moved from the door. The king walked a few paces into the tower before his eyes fell on Staff. Instantly, they narrowed.
“An admin still in war state.” He chuckled as he clicked his fingers. A smaller dwarf struggled to bring a large hammer to the king’s hand. Once it was in his grasp, he pointed its tip towards Staff.
“That isn’t a good idea.” Staff calmly spoke as the tower guard behind Egill raised his hammer, ready to strike the royal Dwarf down without hesitation. James, who’d at some point put his helmet back on, also raised his spear towards the king of Virki. Egill rather quickly took note of the fact that he was surrounded. His royal guard quickly took arms as they rushed from the carriage, but neither tower guard so much as flinched despite the elite force.
“It’s bad enough you let him in here, but while he’s allowed to murder for the elves?” Egill pressed.
“All within the tower are to be protected.” James calmly spoke, his weapon steady as a rock.
“Do you lot really think you can protect me from him?” Egill asked the tower guard.
“However much I would love to burn you to a crisp… I am not allowed to harm anyone who sets foot in this tower.” Staff reminded him.
“It wouldn’t be the first rule the admins have broken.”
“Admin Staff is honour bound to obey the rules of the tower. As a member of Blackspear, he has given an oath to follow such rules. An oath he has never broken over the lifetime of our world.” James revealed. Egill hesitantly lowered his hammer and then waved a hand for his guards to stand down.
“Blackspear… a guild almost as old as the admins themselves… So, these guards are your lackeys, are they?” He sneered at Staff.
“Actually, it’s the other way around.” Staff responded with a small smirk.
“Admin Staff is the lowest rank of our guild. The only member of his rank. While in our presence, even the lowest ranked tower guard has authority over him.” James explained.
“An authority I have quite the history with. A history I wouldn’t tarnish just to put an end to your life.” Staff added.
“So, are you lot tower guards or Blackspear?”
“This tower is and has remained under control of the Blackspear guild for almost its entire life. Only members of Blackspear may become tower guards.” James answered.
The two guard’s weapons both finally lowered, and they both returned to their normal, almost unmoving posture. With a slightly nervous grin, Egill walked over to the beginning of the staircase and slowly began to climb the many stairs. Staff came up alongside him as the two of them walked up together.
“I rarely give advice, so listen well.” Staff began to mutter, “I wouldn’t make enemies of these people if I were you.”
“Since when did an admin worry about making enemies?” Egill muttered as he then double blinked in surprise. He’d not expected Staff to behave so casually around him. The God he’d openly questioned seemed to match pace with him, as if the two were on friendly terms all of a sudden.
“If an admin of all people doesn’t ever want to get on the bad side of these guards, I suggest you adopt the same sort of thinking.” Staff quietly muttered just loud enough for Egill to hear.
“Tell me, why are the other admins banned from this place?” He questioned. The Dwarf’s curiosity had certainly been peaked.
“That’s actually quite the story, but not one to share.” Staff quickly responded. The man clearly didn’t want to tell him everything to do with the tower then…
“What would happen if another admin attempted to get in here?” Egill asked.
“They would draw their weapons and stop them.” Egill came to a stop. They’d both made it most of the way up, but he now eyed Staff with suspicion. Staff came to a stop as well and turned to see what was wrong with the man. Egill looked deep into the admin’s eyes. He found no bluff. The man wasn’t toying with him. He’d meant no jest. He’d been deadly serious this entire time.
“But an admin out of war state is unkillable… surely even they wouldn’t be mad enough to take on an admin at full strength?” Staff slowly smiled at this. He kept silent, knowing his current thoughts to be dangerous knowledge in the hands of most mortals. His words were true, any force that tried to oppose the admins wasn’t one that lasted long in this world, with one exception. Mad enough to take on an admin? Oh, if only he knew that Staff had once watched them draw their blades against, back then, all four other admins, without fear or hesitation.
“Blackspear is a guild you do not wish to make enemies of; king of the gravel pit.” Staff sharply sneered at the man. He turned, and continued up the staircase, “Heed my warning, or continue your path of blind ignorance to a shallow grave. You’re poking forces you don’t understand.”
***
As the sun began to set behind the peaks of the Edge Mountains, Staff quietly stood on the flat disk roof of the Tower of Peace. His toes dangling off the edge as he watched the four heavily guarded carriages and escorts ride away towards the four corners of the map. Another useless meeting. Arguments about the stalemate of the war… useless squabbling as far as he was concerned. He caught a flash of light in his peripherals. He turned to find Zoie now behind him.
“How goes the search?” She asked.
“Dead end after dead end.” He answered as he turned back to the sunset before them both.
“Good to know she’s a tough one after all.” She sighed.
“Patience is key Zoie.” He quietly muttered, “I’ll find her eventually.” Zoie took a second to examine Staff’s tighter and more upright posture compared to his normal self. Her eyes squinted with mild suspicion.
“Something’s up… something new…” She muttered, “Spill.”
“A secret for a secret.” Staff quickly turned around as he glanced back at her. His calm, emotionless glare sparked with cunning wit. She’d only one more secret from him to spill, the one she’d refused to say before. He was testing just how much she wanted his open trust. She cursed herself as she turned to the sunset. She’d hoped their last conversation hadn’t shaken their friendship too much, but Staff wasn’t one to leave a stone unturned.
“Fine.” She sighed, “I’ve… fallen in love.” She then quietly muttered.
“With a mortal?” Staff quickly pressed.
“A Demon mage of low class.” She admitted, “I know you of all people understand… but I also know your current stance…”
“You fool.” He sighed, “Have I not warned you time and time again… loving them will only lead to heartbreak.” The two stood in complete silence. This time not even the wind itself was brave enough to disturb the air between them, “Then again… I’ve somehow repeated the same mistake.” Zoie turned to look at him, at first with surprise, but as his eyes turned to meet hers, she suddenly found everything he’d been hiding on full display.
“Do you plan to act on these feelings, as you did before?” She asked him.
“We both know where that leads.” He answered. Pain, heartbreak, grief and sorrow. She’d not seen such things in his eyes since… well… since he’d lost the last woman he’d fallen for.
“We do.” She admitted, “But life is never about the destination, even for immortals such as us.” She then added. Staff’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re planning to act on your own feelings, aren’t you?” He figured out.
“I am.” She boldly admitted, “And I think you should too.” Staff snapped his eyes away from her. The faint glitter of tear drops fluttered beside his face as he did so.
“If I do… If you do… They’ll be gone in no time at all.” He whispered.
“I’m sick of existing in this constant.” Zoie calmly snapped, “Life is meant to be full of ups and downs… these past centuries I feel more like I’m daydreaming than existing as a person within this world.”
“And you think you’ll be any better off after you watch him age and turn to dust!” Staff snapped back as he turned back to her in full, painfilled fury.
“No.” She admitted, “But that’s the point.” She continued, “We both look upon this world right now as nothing… it’s not great or terrible, it just is… I want to feel something… anything…” Staff turned back to the dwindling sunset. His eyes narrowed as the last remnants of sunlight finally vanished into the night, but then they relaxed, softened. He turned back to Zoie to find her own eyes now teary. The moisture from her own tears gently boiled and evaporated the second it came into contact with her surrounding red aura, making her tears more obvious than his. He sighed again as he brought one hand up to her face and affectionately brushed the dry salt from her cheeks.
“We’ve both been through so much Zoie…” He softly spoke, “The last thing I want is to see you hurt.”
“I know more than anyone what hurt feels like.” She spoke up, her eyes now alight with a passionate fury of their own, “I’d choose that over whatever we’re becoming by locking our hearts away for eternity.” Sam looked deep into her eyes. Her ancient, weathered eyes that had seen just as many centuries as his own. Her of all people saying such a thing… He let go of her face and sighed one last time.
“Fine.” He gently spoke, “Message received… I’ll… try.”