Coronation

Inella came back into reality with her robes in tatters, her feet bare and bloodied. Addimar was by her side, her unknown enemy. Inella slowly began to remember the events leading up to her being trapped in the dream spell, but her memory was incomplete. Addimar had altered her memory before she had come out of the spell. He made her believe that she had wanted to go into the dream spell as a training exercise, when in reality Addimar had forced the dream spell on her as a way to trap her.

“How was your training?” Addimar asked Inella as he towered over her. He offered her no assistance as she struggled to get up on her feet.

“I feel lightheaded. I spent such a long time there, and I had no concept of this world for most of that time.” Inella paused to rub the top of her forehead. “How many days have passed while I was in the dream spell?”

“It has only been two full days, child. You have no need to fear the time of your absence. Your training was well spent, and you have not missed your coronation.” Addimar started to walk towards the castle. He never looked Inella in the eyes. “I told your council that the coronation would need to be postponed, because I thought you would be in the dream spell for longer, but it is a testament to your own mental fortitude that you should be out of the dream spell in time to make your original appointment.”

“Ah, I see.” Inella said from behind. In her physical state, it was hard for her to keep up with Addimar’s pace. Inella healed herself as best she could, her healing prowess being the pittance that it was. She used a small bit of water to wash the blood off of her, and re-wove the threads of her robes until they were adequately mended. “I’ll have another attire for the coronation, will I not?” Inella asked after looking at the crooked incompleteness of her respun robe patterns.

“I’m sure they will have something for you. You are going to be a queen, after all.” Addimar did not look back as he progressed forward.

“Not just a queen, but the queen. This land will finally know peace under my rule.” Inella said proudly.

“Forgive me, Inella. It is ironic that you talk of peace now that you have plucked each king out of his kingdom and put his head on a spike.”

“I did what was necessary. Besides, there will never be a king again, only queens. Men are far too selfish, greedy, and lazy to rule over a family. It is an error that they were ever let rule over entire kingdoms.” Inella smirked.

“You would speak of the failures of man while I am here? A man myself? As your teacher I thought you would have more respect for me.” Addimar finally turned around to look at Inella.

“Well, you aren’t from this world. Perhaps all men are as good as I know you to be where you come from, but surely you can agree that there are scant men who live up to your character in my world.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Addimar said, turning back around. He spoke knowing that Inella was wrong. There were plenty of men from Inella’s world who were equally as scheming, conniving, and treacherous as Addimar was. He had planned the whole thing from top to bottom and executed it perfectly thus far. He found Inella before she was too sure of her victory on the warpath. It was his teaching that brought her the strength to topple kingdoms. She was becoming strong, almost strong enough for him to drain. Soon he would exile her and steal her strength, so that he could rebuild the world to his liking (in his image). He would steal Inella’s power from her the same way that he had taken his friend’s before he left his old world. This time, when he fought Yoseline, he would surely defeat her. Once Yoseline was dead, he would have nothing in the world to worry about apart from the flavor of icing he’d like on the cake. While Addimar was weak and recuperating from his attack on Yoseline and her home world, he had stolen small pieces of Inella’s blooming power; soon it would be time to take all of it, and break her in the process.

“Ah, there she is.” Nehaynosh said with relief thick in her voice. “We’ve been looking all over for you.” Nehaynosh said to Inella, giving Addimar a brief smile but saying nothing to him. Nehaynosh grabbed Inella familiarly by the arm and led her up the stone steps of the castle. The throne room was right inside. Men and women scurried about setting things in place and tidying, each of them busy with the preparations for Inella’s coronation day. Banners of white and gold were hung about with Inella’s symbol on them, an ‘I’ with a crown above it and a cave below it. Inella’s future and her past, or so she thought.

Inella waited about listlessly, the time ticked slowly today. All the unimportant seconds before the ceremony were painstakingly long. She tried every cure for boredom from fixing her hair in different ways, folding her sleeves, and picking her nails, but nothing made waiting for the ceremony shorter.

All of the women who had survived the war by Inella’s side were gathered in the throne room. A heavy, timber table sat decorated with roasted turkeys, mixed vegetables, whole fruits, and breads of various shapes and flavors. Every other seat had a dish of butter and a shaker of salt or pepper. The silverware glinted in the waiting light of the room.

The ceremony was concise. Nehaynosh herself placed the crown on Inella’s head, where it would stay for the rest of the night. There was a smattering of words and incantations, then an uproarious applause. Inella smiled broadly and ordered her newly made subjects to sit at the table for feasting. There was pleasant banter, and generous sums of alcohol brought about a plague of laughter that infected the women ceaselessly.

“It was back in the outcrops of Baz where I met a handsome farmer wringing his hands in the field. We had some pleasant small talk and I peppered him with flirtation. Eventually he asked me if I was any good at riding and I responded with a wink and a nod.” Lyndross was telling a story to those she was sitting near, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her typical anger had melted into joy by the bubbles she drank. “You can’t imagine my disappointment when he took me out to his horse pen and not to his chambers.” Those listening erupted in laughter at that. Nehaynosh had been sipping her chalice and it caused her to snort wine up and out of her nose. June had to force a laugh, so that she didn’t appear jealous.

Moira and Adda sat next to each other at the table, and in their equal drunken stupor they could not keep their eyes off of each other. Moira reminisced on the fresh coronation ceremony, fancying it similar to a wedding. “Adda, that was such a lovely ceremony, was it not?” Moira said with a slight slur to her words.

“Yes, it reminded me of a wedding in a way.” Adda managed to speak without error, but she swayed back and forth in her chair as she spoke, as if there was a heavy wind indoors.

“That’s exactly what I was just thinking!” Moira exclaimed. She punctuated her words by whipping about her asparagus holding fork.

“You know… we should get married.” Adda didn’t say it like a question, and she didn’t say it with any scrap of doubt in her tone. Adda looked patiently at Moira’s eyes for her response, but she didn’t have to wait long.

“We should, shouldn’t we? We are perfectly in love, have been for a while. Now that the patriarchy has been toppled, who could oppress us? Who would dare stop us, knowing that the most powerful women in all of the land are the closest friends we hold?” Moira and Adda smiled at each other brilliantly for several happy seconds. Eventually Adda held up her glass and Moira matched the two glasses met in a gentle tink that toasted the women to be betrothed.

“-and then I pizzled all over him because he wasn’t worth my wasted time.” Dremeira finished a raunchy story with a mischievous laugh from a dark and knowing smile. Adda and Moira ignored the uproar Dremeira had caused, doting on each other uninterrupted.

“-well, before my back began to hurt, I used to be somewhat of a back-hurter myself.” Nehaynosh gave the table a coy look.

“Oh, behave, Nehaynosh.” Lyndross joked. “Here we are in such a light mood, just to have you start speaking of the dark ages.”

“Please girl, I’m not that old.” Nehaynosh said through a small burst of laughter. “At least I didn’t accidentally set fire to the Possun’s farm.” At that, the laughter redirected from Nehaynosh to Lyndross.

“Those buggers deserved to have their farm burned, and you know it. Going about saying a woman can’t do magic as well as a man, I think their barn says otherwise.” Lyndross laughed at herself and continued to drink, her cup rapidly draining.

“What? You never told me that they made those remarks.” Nehaynosh was shocked, borderline stupefied because of her drunken dimwittedness.

“Well, you never asked, did you?” Lyndross stuck her tongue out at Nehaynosh, which made some of the younger girls giggle from across the room even though they couldn’t hear the conversation.

“So, that means that it wasn’t an accident. You set their farm ablaze on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, and if you ask me, that just makes the story even funnier.” Lyndross and the rest of the women continued to laugh. Across from Lyndross and under the table, Nestelle was playing a prank on June. Nestelle had a voodoo doll of June. Before June could lift her flagon of beer to her mouth, Nestelle used the doll to move June’s hand ever so slightly, making her miss her mouth and spill. June was considerably drunk already, so she didn’t take notice of the trick until the fourth time Nestelle had done it.

“Hey! What have you got under the table, Nestelle? It’s you who is making me spill all this precious beer, isn’t it?” June huffed and puffed. Nestelle laughed at being caught and joined in on the milling conversation. At one point in the night, the women were so drunk that all they could do was compliment the food as they ate it, giggling, smiling, and slouching in their chairs.

When no one was looking, Lyndross slinked towards June. “June. Juuuuune.” Lyndross loudly whispered from behind June.

“What?” June responded in a whispered tone.

“You look really hot right now.” Lyndross said. She looked at the people around to see if they noticed, but all the drunken women were preoccupied.

“Stop. Kghk.” June snorted. She was cracking up at what Lyndross had said. “Oh sweetness, stop it.”

“I know a room we can go to.” Lyndross took June’s hand and helped her balance as she wobbled up from the stone bench she was sitting on.

“Mkay.” June said, moaning, eyes closed. She was properly sloshed, and it was amplifying the sexual desires she had already had for Lyndross.

Addimar duels Yoseline

The ground was still, as it is typically still. Grass sat erect, unaware of the fires to come. The scene was romantic for a plains woman- minor hills with no trees or bush in sight. The land was far East, untouched by the machinations of man. Three sets of slippers, each a uniquely unimportant thread, parked in the spring green grass. Shifting in anxiety, piston thumping in anticipation. There would be a battle.

“You’ve no right to have corrupted her so!” Yoseline yelled at Addimar. The two were far apart, but not so far apart that she needed to yell. Yoseline yelled because she was angry, bitter, filled with hot emotions that had lingered too long; emotions that are best realized in brevity, emotions that had boiled up, and locked in malicious positions. Addimar had destroyed his own planet. He had destroyed Yoseline’s planet. Inella stood between the two conflicting forces.

“Corrupted her as I corrupted our world, yes. I’m sure you will blame me for what happened on Earth. I’m sure you will try to turn Inella against me. She had much to learn, and I have taught her well. Do you think you will be able to sway her allegiance so easily?” Addimar remained calm in his rebuttal, a clear juxtaposition to Yoseline’s seething rage.

“All that you have taught her are perverted lies. You should be a palace of guilt for what you have done, the people you have killed, the land that has been lost. Instead, you stand as pompous as always. Your eyes are filled with pride at what you’ve done. How dare you?” Yoseline raised her hand and pointed menacingly at Addimar, but he was unflinching.

“I have grown her powers in immeasurable ways! All she would do is thank me. You speak of her like she is not here. Inella, what would you say to me for all that I have done for you?” Addimar looked at Inella patiently. The breeze barely moved the tweedles of grass underfoot.

“Just because you have been my teacher does not mean that you didn’t do all the things Yoseline claims. Why are you asking me not to believe a woman? Women should be believed.” Inella had been meek during the confrontation, but now she was angry.

“I ask you to discredit her, as she is a liar. Do you not know me better than her?” The coolness of Addimar’s visage was beginning to wither away.

“I hardly know you, Addimar. But as a woman, I know all women. I have been berated and belittled, as all women have been. I have been questioned and doubted, as all women have been. I have been called a liar when speaking the truth. You call her a liar now. Is it not in the grip of a liar’s cleverness to scapegoat another as a liar when they lack the truth? When you lack the truth, why wouldn’t you call her a liar? And I have been degraded, objectified, disenfranchised, seen and taken for lesser, mocked, and underestimated. Surely Yoseline has felt all that I’ve felt, because it is so often that we, as women, feel thus. I am not to be underestimated; you know what happens when I am underestimated, Addimar. You have seen a continent crumble because I was underestimated.” Inella’s tight, white fists were clenched and shaking.

“You must trust me, my student. Yoseline’s world needed to be destroyed, for it was corrupt. It needed to be purged and reformed.” Addimar tried to compose himself.

“Do not hear his lies, Inella. Our world was like yours is now. Men and women were both free to practice magic on Earth. I’ve told you this, Inella. I know that you remember this.” Yoseline paused to draw a vial from her sleeve. “I also told you of how Addimar would use the dream spell on you to purge your memory, let us look at it now. Let us see the truth of things.”

When Yoseline uncorked the vial of white light, an image appeared. This image was a recording of when Yoseline had visited Inella. Inella watched Yoseline tell her about the deception of the dream spell, the evil of it. Inella watched Yoseline tell her about how Addimar had used the dream spell on his own men, and on women who opposed him. Yoseline’s sister had gone insane from the dream spell touching her mind. Inella looked at Yoseline and knew that this was no illusion.

“This is an amalgamation you have made out of dust and fairy tales, this is propaganda to slander me. Surely you see this Inella.” Addimar looked at Inella, hoping she would believe him, or hoping she was unsure at the least. No part of Inella was unsure.

“Your schemes are laid bare in the light of truth, Addimar. Your dark reign is over. I will believe Yoseline. You are a fool to have made me stronger, because now I will use that strength against you.” Inella turned towards Addimar, stepping out of the way so Yoseline had an unimpeded line of sight.

“Let you know the never ending fire, let you be burned for turning away from me. Let-” Yoseline was quick to cut Addimar off.

“We speak too much, let speaking be done.” Yoseline hurled a plethora of fiery wisps at Addimar with unrivaled speed. If Lyndross would have seen the spell, a tear might have come to her eye in joy. Addimar was hit by the fire, dispersing into ash. He floated in small particles until reforming with the thrice heard ticking of a clock. Inella shot spears of ice at Addimar, but he grabbed them with a hand of hot steel and melted them away. With a sinister smirk at Inella, Addimar muttered one word,

“sleep.”

By hearing this word, Inella was forced to the ground in a pile of deep slumber, once again trapped in the shifting illusions of the dream spell. Yoseline glanced at Inella and computed what had happened. ‘This will be my own fight, then,’ she thought to herself.

Yoseline sent forth great, gripping vines towards Addimar that came up from under the ground and wrapped around his legs, but before the vines could crush him, he disappeared, appearing again behind her. He clenched his fists at his waist and let out a guttural scream. By command, the ground around him began to break apart, rising up into the air in tightly packed clumps. Once there was a satisfactory amount of ammunition, he hurled the dirty projectiles at Yoseline.

Yoseline cut the projectiles from Addimar’s attack apart with whips of wind. She extended her fingers out, and the wind sliced wildly, leaving small cuts of scant bleeding upon Addimar’s fabric and face. This seemed to be her first true hit, but she did not let herself get carried away. ‘If I know Addimar at all, he’ll have more tricks up his sleeve.’ Yoseline thought to herself.

Addimar grew 80 feet and towered over Yoseline. His fingers, now as thick as tree trunks, carved holes out of themselves. As Addimar punched toward Yoseline, the holes in his fingers made wind tunnels which cut the grass up indirectly. Yoseline shrunk herself and slipped between Addimar’s pointer and middle finger just below the knuckle. Once through the fingery impasse, she reshaped herself into a giant eagle and shredded his gut with her talons. Instead of blood, Addimar’s wound began to drip hissing green acid. Yoseline’s wing feathers began to burn from the oozing liquid, so she backed away, turning back to her human form. Addimar shrunk as well, and created a clone of himself. Yoseline matched Addimar with a clone of her own.

Addimar’s clone began to dance, and Yoseline made her clone copy every movement. While the clones were dancing, Addimar blasted lead slugs at Yoseline. Yoseline separated herself in half vertically, the two pieces of her attached together with an intestinal string. Once the lead had passed, the string coiled itself up, and made Yoseline whole again.

Yoseline created a black hole in front of Addimar, which he flinched at. In order to prevent himself from being sucked into the ether, Addimar created an infinite column of turtles that slowly rose out of the ground beneath the black hole. The shells of the turtles were slow to be absorbed, so as the turtles rose up from the ground, they began to disappear, but they rose out of the ground faster than they disappeared, and eventually the black hole had risen out of the atmosphere, and could not be seen. While the repeatedly emerging turtles continued to stack in the sky, the clones had stopped dancing. Their faces melted into metallic colors.

Addimar’s clone was a shining silver which reshaped into a face with metallic bull horns, long elephant tusks, and a hard pyramid of a nose. The eyes were bright yellow and they gleamed in the moonlight like a fatal disease. The eyes began to grow, as did the rest of the head, and all of the body. The dancing clone was now a series of quicksilver flows. The chest expanded into a firm shield highlighted in geometric patterns of red and blue.

Yoseline’s clone was gold with black eyes, the jealousy of Midnight. The face was rounded with jutting daggers of bronze which offered the illusion of a lion’s mane. The snouted mouth was a cave of amethyst crystals sharper and more aplenty than shark teeth. In the middle of the forehead was a crooked scimitar that was twice as proud as any of the other knives and stuck out twice as far. The head and body grew until they were 200 feet tall. The chest was highlighted with black and white edges, a longsword gripped in the right hand, a shield the shape of a deformed heart was held in the left hand. Addimar’s silver creature stood across from Yoseline holding a spear and an axe.

Two colossal suits of armor stood in the night, their wizardly pilots climbed into them through crevices in their chests. At the wave of a hand, the metal shimmered and turned to liquid, but once Yoseline and Addimar were inside their respective machines, all was solid and ready to fight. The two shining giants circled each other, sizing each other up like yet to punch boxers.

The curve of the axe was not unique. The hilt and the blade were curved, and they both swung wildly at Yoseline. She blocked with her shield. She knew that Addimar might try to pry the shield off of her arm with the bottom part of the axe, so she was watching for that. Addimar took a step back and jabbed out with the spear. His step back made the spacing of the attack perfect. Yoseline swung her sword and caught the spear on the haft, near the blade. Addimar’s attack was batted to the side, but Yoseline’s sword did not even get close to him. He used this freedom to reposition himself. He twirled and brought the spear low, trying to sweep Yoseline’s feet.

Yoseline saw the attack coming and decided to do something bold. She put her body behind the shield and charged in with two running steps, then jumped, letting her forward momentum carry her to Addimar. Yoseline’s shield made an impact on the elephant tusks, but not the bull horns up top. The shield was lower, and rammed his chest. The curve of the armor’s neck was a shelter against the shield. Addimar shook his head and kept his balance. The two parried each other ceaselessly, the loud cling of metal was tangible. Yoseline was figuring out Addimar’s reach while he danced in a circle around her. He was trying to slip under or around her guard with his arrogant attacks.

‘On his next attack I’ll transform my block into a disarming blow.’ Yoseline thought to herself. Planning ahead in a battle is often indicative of victory. Addimar leaned in for a stab with his spear, which Yoseline blocked with her shield. Then, just as she had planned it, she continued the motion of the blocking shield, sweeping it towards Addimar’s axe, where it ducked at the last second and hit his hand, forcing him to drop one of his weapons. Yoseline picked up the axe while Addimar was caught in the shock of the moment. She threw the axe overhead and it hit Addimar’s chest shield with a reverberating thunk. The wild eyes creviced between the bull horns and the elephant tusks lacked their usual cool indifference. ‘He must not have been expecting that.’ Yoseline thought to herself.

Addimar changed his grip, so that he held the spear with both hands. His attacks were more reserved now, striking less frequently, and attacking only with balanced stances. Yoseline swung her sword high and Addimar blocked it, catching it on the haft. He rotated the blade back until Yoseline’s arm was in line with her shoulders. Her guard was open from the right side of her chest, up her neck, and on her head. Addimar used the opportunity to smack Yoseline in the face with the flat of his blade. Yoseline could feel Addimar smiling somewhere inside of the giant set of armor.

The two circled each other cautiously. The giant thumping steps of metal pressed the grass into footprints. Wind swirled around casually, unaware of the battle happening, completely unaffected by it. The world is beautiful until man alters it into his ugly image. The grasses were greater than any metropolis of skyscrapers and bustling industry; each blade of grass is a skyscraper that might be made a meal for doe. If not, it lives and dies and lives again in another form, another shape. The shape of the grass is cyclical, the destiny of any building is only to die, crumbling to dust by the firm hand of time. Plentiful knights are the grass. Long and slender necks of green which head into soft, impractical swords. Yet there is vigilance. Standing duty in sparse posts, clumps of staggering, drunken-swaying fealty. Loyalty pushed about by unforeseen winds unseen. Addimar struck at Yoseline, who blocked using her blade. The sound of the steel colliding and grating was so loud that Inella snapped out of her illusory slumber.

Yoseline noticed Inella wake up and informed her how to make a clone so that she could suit up and fight. Inella made a clone and let it dance the dance of transformation. Addimar tried to stop her by stomping on her and her clone, but Yoseline pushed him away. Yoseline whacked Addimar’s standing leg with her sword, making him fall backwards. He recuperated with a somersault. He pointed his spear’s tip at his enemy, Yoseline. Then he moved it over to his other enemy, Inella, who was now in a giant suit of armor.

Inella’s suit was a pure black metal, the face of a rhino with the curling horns of a ram on the upper sides of her head. The chest plate had another straight horn sticking out of it, with smaller ones on each elbow and knee cap. In her hands she held a long pole of silver fashioned with a gruesome, black, double-edged axe head. Inella widened her stance, bending her knees, poised to strike (wanting to strike).

Addimar pointed his spear back and forth between the women, slowly backing up. When the feet of a 200 foot tall suit of armor shuffle slowly backwards they still make great progress in the perspective of human distance. By his creeping backwards, and the woman following towards him, the trio was now near an expansive forest of pine and fir trees. Addimar brought his blade down from overhead to strike at Inella. Inella held her axe above her head, catching Addimar’s swing between her hands on the long silver hilt. With Addimar’s weapon momentarily caught, Yoseline took the opportunity to slice at him with her sword, leaving a shallow cut horizontally across the abdomen of the armor, and once her sword was clear, she pushed Addimar backwards with her shield. Addimar fell into the innocent trees, cracking and snapping them in a great clap of wooden thunder. When he got up, there was an imprint of his armor, an uneven line drawn in the trees. Those trees near the falling calamity that had not snapped were stripped bare of many of their branches. It was like a police outline, but instead of being drawn in chalk, it was drawn in the shedding skin of the assaulted trees. Sleeping sap stiffened in the unexpected air.

The layered blades worn around Yoseline’s neck shifted naturally in a shaking circle. A great roar protruded from the lifeless mouth of the machine. The whizzing ticks of turning gears. The smell of hot oil bubbling, metal heating. The three mages had to cast cooling spells on themselves while inside the tremendous mechanisms of battle. Such a fight they had made, but now there was cautious silence in the waiting moments. No one dared strike out in a whistling jab when the ripe fruit of night wind was heavy in the mouth. The echoes of the recent roar were gone, at least from the ears of those present; perhaps the sounds were still out there somewhere, their speed decaying (their strength mitigated by distance).

Inella looked towards the patient colossus, peering from out of the mouth of her vehicle, perched high in its throat. Water swirled beneath her, wrapping her arms into controllers, keeping a hot red burning from blossoming. Yoseline also sat in a chair of water, observing her opponent with brown, calculating eyes. She sat in the right eye of her lion, strategizing.

The machines began to dance.

This was not a dance of transformation, but a dance of battle. A dance of battle can be a dance of transformation, but not one that forms something greater. The dance of battle transforms life into death, transforms metal into scrap. Time is a rough wheel that spins itself clean, spins itself smooth. War, strife, and destruction sit thick on the wheel. It spins and picks up pestilence in the track and holds it like steak gristle trapped in between molars.It spins, and famine stretches its wretched arms in the silent and bare stretches, but war is loud. War is loud with its explosions, shrapnel and zooming bullets. War is loud when swords clash on armor, it was loud when the first man hit the second with a rock, or a wooden club. A fleshy thunk of unthinking death. Death is the stink of the wheel.

The machines stopped dancing.

There were sizable scars in the metal, fissures as deep as canyons and ravines and earthquake-made rivulets. Gears and cogs littered the ground like lonely snowflakes waiting to melt. The brilliant colors of the armor were hated. The gold, silver, and black now mixed together like crayons in a tough fist; a fist that squeezed tight and snapped the necks of the defenseless crayons. Robots do not tire. The glowing eyes, red and yellow backed by constant surges of electricity, the turning mills of homeostasis. Metal does not pant, but the people commanding the machines were panting. The giant contraptions of steel held their weapons on bent knees, matching the tired posture of their pilots.

A gouge was in the upper right shoulder of Addimar’s machine. Yoseline’s tool had a sizable dent above the right hip. And for a machine of such stature to have a ‘sizable’ dent, you could say instead that a hill lived inside the abdomen. Inella’s machine was cut over the chest, silver streaks on the black canvas that painted the age of an old chopping block. Inella’s armor was damasked with the wild slices of a blade, but otherwise fine.

Inella swung her axe, connecting with Addimar’s metal knee. By breaking the inaction, Inella severed clean through the metal plating of the knee. Addimar’s armor gave an ungodly creak, a haunting sound of metal moving. Addimar fell backwards, as if fated. When he landed, his machine landed in that exact spot that it had fallen before. The massive thump of ended momentum kicked up dust and further creaked the beaten, swollen, welted metal. His mechanical body lay still amongst trees which were barely taller than his horned cowl and his plated chest.

“Finish him, Inella.” Yoseline said from inside the circle of her lion’s mane. Yoseline stood to the right of Inella. Addimar lay in front of Inella. Inella gathered her strength, bringing her axe up high. Inella turned herself around, swinging with vitriol. The blade of the axe cut through the air with undisturbed determination.

But when the blade was about to strike down at Addimar it didn’t. It kept swinging. It swung back and hit Yoseline. The bladed head of the lion was severed instantly by the slicing blow. The headless body of gold stood dumbly, a still chicken for just a moment. When the body fell it sounded hollow, an ornate bell. The metal seemed antique on the ground, laying without use or function. Inella grabbed Addimar’s hand and picked him up from the field of deleted, trampled trees. Yoseline’s body was still, her severed head unmoving.

When Addimar’s mechanical body was standing, Inella finally spoke. “Are you okay?” She asked. Inella had figured something out.

“I’m fine, but how did you know it was me?” Yoseline asked, curious. Yoseline was the one standing. The severed lion head and useless lion body that lay motionless on the ground belonged to Addimar, and had belonged to him all along.

“You said that speaking would be done, so I knew that whoever was the first to speak would be Addimar.” Inella cleared her throat and continued on with her explanation. “I had a feeling that Addimar would try to trick me, as he has tricked me so grossly before. Foul is he who tricks.” Inella let a grave moment pass in silence. “Besides, what woman would arm herself with the mask of a man? I knew that it could only be a man’s hubris to form the mane of a lion, and there also I figured out Addimar’s deception.”

“I am glad that you acted and thought as you did. I couldn’t break his spell over you, all I could do was stay quiet and wait for him to speak as me. The spell he had you under made it seem like I was him, and he was me. You fought valiantly.” Yoseline planted her spear in the island of the lion’s head; deep between the eyes, as far as the blade would plunge. Then Yoseline got out of her suit. Using a spell of ritual equality, Yoseline transmuted her suit of armor into dissipating dust. This caused Addimar’s lion suit to disappear in the same way, only moments after. “Addimar thought he could beat me with my own trick.” Yoseline spit on this ground. “I showed him that clone trick there. Serves him right he should lose when trying to use it against me.” Yoseline said more to herself than Inella. “Come, we must speak of many things.” Yoseline waved for Inella to follow her as she began to walk away.

“You must tell me the full story of what happened, now that Addimar isn’t here to rebuke your words.” Inella looked eager to hear a response.

“Very well, you deserve the story in its entirety. I was born in the United States of America in the year 1986. There was magic in my country, just like there is magic in your land. People studied magic at universities which were all across the country, and could be found almost everywhere in the world where large groups of people lived. The first time I met Addimar was in college. I had already been practicing magic for years. I used it to make chores easier, from sweeping to doing dishes and cooking, magic was the easiest trick to get it done.” Yoseline paused, making a glass of water appear, and taking a small sip with her thin lips.

“As I have told you before, Addimar was a facist. When I first met him in college, he was not so radical. No, when I first met him he was little beyond an entitled white man who thought he knew what he wanted out of the world, and felt that he deserved it. When I first met Addimar, he was just beginning to practice magic. He was fascinated with power. All of the magic I ever saw him doing or studying was battle magic. Things like curses, pyromancy, and the thing he was always most curious about was anything that exploded. I didn’t see it at the time, but it foreshadowed death-shadows… the afterimage left by the nuclear.” Yoseline scratched under her nose in a brief reset of a pause.

“Addimar was eventually expelled from the university while I was still studying there. He had accidentally killed a student in class, but from what I heard it was no accident. Before his expulsion, Addimar had a trial. In this trial, he was represented by lawyers famous for defending the president during his impeachment trial. In the same way that they rigged the impeachment trial, those lawyers tried to rig Addimar’s trial. The only issue was that they got caught.” Yoseline finished her water and snapped the glass into nothingness.

“Once he had met those scummy lawyers, he got in with darker circles. Started consorting with fascists, militias, libertarians. I wasn’t keeping tabs on him by any means, but from what I heard, his goal was to make all magic legal. He was wishing for more accidents to happen. In the space of a few months Addimar went from a new recruit to the leader of his own group. They called themselves ‘The Sons of Patriotism.’ They harassed women, heckled politicians, and practiced dangerous magic. They blew up a factory, killing two of their own members. Addimar was excommunicated from his own movement once the international police warrants started pouring in. Addimar had collaborated with terrorists worldwide, and nearly every country in the world wanted him to sit in their jail.” Yoseline stopped, observing the look of a question bloom on Inella’s brow.

“Addimar told me that you were on a task force that was hunting down male wizards. Were you?” Inella did not believe that Yoseline was, but wanted to hear for herself.

“It’s true that there was a task force after him, but I was not on it. I was hunting him down as an individual. In all the time that he had been causing trouble (both domestic and global), I had been practicing my magic non-stop. I knew that I was better than him. I had started before him, and I had always been better than him. I felt like it was my job to stop him because I knew that I could. Addimar ended up joining an even more radical group; ‘The Sunlight Directive.’ With this group, he started a civil war in our country.”

“How? I can’t imagine someone who is wanted all over the world could have the power.” Inella’s forehead was covered in curious creases.

“The president pardoned him. Addimar and The Sunlight Directive spread propaganda to every person with the use of a spell, but rather a television. The country was already extremely prejudiced, and largely divided. Addimar managed to stir up enough coals to start a fire. He framed his war after religion, and freedom, and all the sweet things you hear and want to be a part of, but it was all lies. His war was really about who was going to be in control. The truth is that Addimar wanted to rule the entire world, and he planned to use as many illegal spells as he needed to in order to seize power. The war raged on for years. Similar wars popped up in other countries, led by associates of The Sunlight Directive. I had been hunting Addimar without rest for four years when the tide of battle began to change. Our side was winning, and Addimar’s forces were depleting. Just when we thought we were going to win, when we thought we could finally establish peace, Addimar used the spell. I’m sure he told you something about it, he was too proud not to speak of such things. His spell was an explosion on such a scale that the entire planet was ruined. Billions were dead. Life as I had known it was a relic of history. I chased him for years, found him here, and it was us who killed him. A man who had long deserved to die.” Now that Yoseline was done telling her story, she made herself a meal and ate it politely.

“Hmm. Well, if your planet is gone, you are welcome to stay here with us.” Inella offered Yoseline an olive branch.

“I could, but I’m not sure if I will. I have seen magic corrupt and destroy. I believe that there are planets out there with no magic. I’d like to find a place like that.” The two women sat down in silence. The castle was on the horizon, just over the green grass hill where the two women rested. Both of them knew a dangerous thought. That thought bounced around at the front of their attention. That thought was that together, the two women were strong enough in the ways of magic to reshape the world in their image.

Inella had gone from far West to far East, had been high North and low South. She had conquered kingdoms with the help of her friends and allies. The thought that swirled around uncontrolled, unmonitored in Inella’s head right now was that if Yoseline wanted to, she could reverse Inella’s work in an instant. Each brick that had fallen in toppling could be easily reset. This was the power of potential. It was a foolish thought. ‘She wouldn’t do that.’ Inella thought to herself. Inella knew that Yoseline wouldn’t act against her. Not after Inella had helped Yoseline. The two might have different ideologies, but Yoseline would not interfere with Inella’s plans. Plans that were so close to fruition. Inella knew exactly what she wanted.

Now that the slate was clean, everything would be so easy. Women would be allowed to practice magic in the same capacity as men. There would be more women in places of power- queens, and lower court officials. Women would study at the schools, and education would be significantly improved. There would be more perspective and acceptance. There would be more hospitals, more markets for selling food and goods. Infrastructure would improve.

For years, the kings of the land had kept the roads with their cracks, potholes, and accumulated trash. Inella could fix all of that, it was only a matter of doing it. Inella planned to end homelessness and poverty. Where poverty served the rich and noble before- making it easy for them to extort, misinform, and default- Inella would not allow it. The struggle, pain, and sadness of another person would serve no one else in this newly shaped land. People would not be taken advantage of and repressed, rather they would be taken care of.

It would be a beautiful land. It was Inella’s dream. An everlasting dream. A dream that Inella had the power to turn into reality. Inella and Yoseline parted ways. Yoseline opened up a circle, a tear in space. Around the circle was the fading colors of the sky’s dimly colored glory. Within the circle seemed to be the brightness of all the stars in space. The circle led Yoseline somewhere that Inella did not know and never would.

Inella walked leisurely to the castle, greeted by her drunk companions. Everyone was still celebrating, as if nothing had happened. The metallic beasts had not been large enough or loud enough to break the distance of the horizon. Everyone near the castle was ignorant of the recent events with Addimar and Yoseline. ‘Good.’ Inella thought to herself. ‘It’s better that way. Let them be happy. They have endured enough, I will make them endure no more.’

Inella would go on to shape her dreams, through collaboration. When women work together, their strength is incalculable. The strength of women working together was enough to create a longstanding utopia. Inella would grow old with age in a perfect world. She would have a daughter named Yoseline. Later, she would have a granddaughter named Inalla, named after her grandmother. Named after the hero of the world. Not a hero with the cleanest hands. There was blood to her name, and pain she had caused. Inalla would practice magic and be powerful, just like her grandmother.

Inella grew old and wrinkly, bitter and jaded. She walked with a hump on her back like Nehaynosh had. Nehyanosh had been dead for years at that point, though. As is life. The corrosive properties of the dream spell eventually ate away at Inella’s memory. She would sit in the corner of a dark room, dawdling with her rolling thumbs. She tried to remember things that she couldn’t. She would live out the last years of her life hectic, seeing illusions, visions, hallucinations; hearing false prophecies. When she eventually died, it would be a painful, long, and arduous process. Perhaps she deserved it. Some certainly say that she did. Others would not. What people say about you changes nothing. When Inella died, she was content with her life’s work, plagued by years of pain. But in her last dying moments, she reminisced. She thought back to how she had changed the world.

After defeating Addimar, that next day Inella headed out into the world with her friends and followers by her side. She spoke to them, “We will make the world a better place. A fair place for anyone to be.” She looked behind her and smiled. Her life was what she had designed it to be. “The world? It will be new. It will be remade. It will be...”

1.Inella nodded. 2. Thus it was done.