Night after day

Silentia disliked astrology classes at the academy, but she knew other worlds had moons, which would reflect light like mirrors during a night. The stone hallways of the Temple resembled dark pits ruled by the silence disrupted only by the soft echo of her steps and persistent voice in her head which repeated What have I done over and over again.

She came to a halt. Has she heard a rustle down the corridor? Grave silence. Her grave... Was that a smile? She thought she'll never smile again. A shadow dressed in rags she had become walked on down the familiar corridors. Her pace was slow and deliberate as not to wake up other sorcerers. The strength would leave if she had to look them in the eyes. She'll need strength if she intends to do it.

She made another pause in front of a dormitory to hear the soft snoring of her friends. Tomorrow they will be safe. She'll protect them. They need the protection from the enemy they can't defeat – from themselves. Then she moved again, rushing to the doors of the Black Chamber.

Once inside, she pressed her back to the door, taking a moment to rest. After a few attempts, she made a spark to light the candles. She stuffed fool’s gold, flint, cattail fluff and birch tree bark shavings back into the large front pocket of her ruined dress. The room covered in black marble was small with Goddess’ icon etched on the floor, its outlines wrought in silver, her hair made of stars - the silver five-pointed stars assembled of apple seeds. Similar patterns are found in real apples if you cut them horizontally. The Goddess was the creator of the stars and mother of life, commoners also called her the Sorceress. Her true name so powerful, the mortals couldn’t utter it. Four statues in each corner of the room portrayed her partner, the Poet, in his wolf form. Each statue colored differently: red, white, blue and black - representing morning, day, evening and night.

Instead of windows, rows of mirrors covered each wall. She couldn’t recognize a woman in the mirrors, her dead eyes red from crying. After I'm done, I'll never cry again. Has my hair turned gray in a single night? It isn’t important anymore, no need to be beautiful. Everyone she ever loved was dead.

Kingdom of Tibald, no, lordship of Tibald needed no magic. They had a need before Klah Empire conquered them. Not anymore, they are just a simple province now.

The magic was a gift from the Goddess. It can’t be destroyed; it will just return to the bones of earth from which it came. And there in the bones of our mother we call rocks, magic will sleep forever. Reachable only by those who know how to access half of reality which is hidden in dreams. We spend half of our life sleeping and majority is just visitors who never learn how to truly live there. She reached into her front pocket again pulling out piece of chalk to scribe equations on the wall of the temple. Mathematic, or a Great Lie as her church was referring to it, was taboo. Do not measure immeasurable, was one of the Commandments. One does not equal one in real world. No rock is same as other rock, no human, even leaves on the same branch… They can be so similar it is hard to notice difference, but difference is always there. In materialistic world such differences can be neglected by accepting margin of error. Not in magic. Every trade made, every child learning to count will strengthen lock I will set on magic tonight. This was first reason Goddess demanded her servants to shun materialistic world and stay away from worldly pleasures. Second was unfair advantage her servants got with magic – they could set world ablaze and make it hell for all of her children. Only strongest and most obedient will receive the gift, that was the pact humans made with Goddess. Oscula was not strong enough. Her eyes shifted to wolf statues, she was defeated by curse not even Goddess was immune to. Tonight she will break the pact and seal it with blood. Unlike the foreign Gods, divine couple never accepted human sacrifices. She took a deep breath. How could I forget that air is so sweet? She lowered herself on the floor, into the arms of the icon. Then she stabbed herself through the heart with a dagger covered in crusted blood. Last she saw were the silver eyes on the floor. They were crying. Sorcerers in the Temple gasped in their sleep.

Day before night

Due to the ruler’s birthday, the atmosphere in the palace was festive. Hundreds of guests lined the tables set in the King’s Hall, enjoying exotic meals and expensive wines. Stone statues of the old kings frowned upon noisy youth from their high niches cut into the wall. Lady Oscula, the lord of Tibald, sat on a blue throne shaped like a wolf, the schooled expression of her upbringing all but erased by confusion. A sorceress who stood in front of her had the same raven hair, blue eyes and facial features, although her clothes were different. The lady’s gown was heavy crimson silk adorned with diamonds and the sorceress had a simple off-white dress. It was sometimes difficult even for their mother to tell them apart. Similarities between the identical twins were not the source of Oscula's confusion. Their eyes met, the water reflecting in the sky and the sky reflecting in the water.

“Dear sister, slavery is punishable by law!” The lady scolded her visitor.

“You misunderstood my lady. He's not a slave. He’s not even human.” Her twin bowed.

“What do you mean?”

“He's a construct - I used my magic to make him.” She made a pause, meeting her sister's gaze once more. Beneath the layers of well-trained expression of indifference, she found the same old pain. The pain revealing sleepless nights filled with tears. It has been there ever since...

She broke the silence, “Since your husband lost his life you had no fun, working all day. Cursed be Trokezi tribes with their raids on our borders. They took your joy. A young person needs love same as the flower needs water. They both wither if denied what they need. This construct is your birthday present. I made him as a perfect love toy, unmatched in bed. His looks will astonish even a blind and if that doesn’t help his smell is a pure aphrodisiac.”

The lady turned to the crowd sitting at the tables surrounding them, “A toast for Silentia, the mightiest sorceress in Tibald! A toast for my sister! I wish you weren't a member of the Temple; we could share your present. You're young too!” She grabbed the construct’s hand, pulling him to sit beside her.

Silentia’s face paled. “Servants of the gods must stay pure.” She bowed, returning to her table. Lady Oscula ignored her, searching for something under her gift's shirt.

Silentia poured the contents of the goblet, she found waiting on the table, down her throat. When the servant came to refill it, she snatched the wine skin from his hands, sending him away. The tiny man who always bowed annoyed her. The music was too loud and irritating. A ten-year-old next to her, fascinated with magic, had thousands of questions. She transferred some of her wine into the child's goblet, mixing it with lemon juice which was already there. His mother danced with a young nobleman and wouldn’t notice if she would force him to drink a whole skin. The dancing couples blurred her vision and made her head spin. Her eyes wandered to the throne. They should take a room. Everyone's watching! Not a moment later, her wish came true - they retreated to her sister’s chamber. Her hands shook as she carved the piece of the meat from her plate, stuffing it in her mouth. The warm food made her sick, and she rushed out. When she finished vomiting, the knife was still in her hands. Her hand was throbbing with pain from forceful grip she applied to the handle. Was that a reason she cried? Her muscles convulsed with rage and her vision blurred. After a long time she could control her actions again. She found herself standing above the bloody carcasses that were once her sister and creature she had no right to love. Then she understood: mankind can’t handle the power of magic. It has to be locked...