Soul Battles

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The Fountain again. However, I immediately knew that something was wrong in the atmosphere, even as the colours hadn't fully form yet.

Tension—it was brewing in the air. Powerful, contained, ready to snap at any moment.

Then my vision cleared. An angry wind swirled around me, whipping my skirts about and threatening to topple me over. Dry leaves and broken twigs and other debris were caught up in a storm, and I threw my arms over my eyes to shield them. I dared to peek upwards: there was a deep, dark hole directly above the Fountain. Clouds were gathered around it, transforming the entire sky into a churning pit with the hole as its centre. The storm had no rain, and its territory ended where the Fountain's borders lay.

I returned my attention to the ground. Hans stood beside me. There was no trace of the innocent I'd seen before in his expression: it was raw, angry, primeval. stood like he was the conjurer of the storm, and his pupils were two black pools of hatred.

He looked terrifying.

I shrank back instinctively. His attention seemed to be focused upon a crowd on the opposite side. I squinted into the distance, making out two figures who stood at the forefront of the people. They were clothed in rich garments, and even as the storm raged around them, they stood tall, steadfast. With a start, I recognised one of the figures as Hans' mother.

"Hans, please! Stop this madness!" his mother screamed, her words almost drowning in the howling wind.

Hans, in response, raised something in his hand: a pipe. The same instrument that was rumoured to be the Pied Piper's weapon of choice when he swept by provinces and cast his spells.

Then there was his whole countenance: the self-absorbed way

Hans carried himself. Still traceable even though this event had taken place centuries before.

Hans was Lord Himmel.

I didn't have time to fully absorb the full implication of the sight as Hans screamed back: "You all betrayed me! You took her away! Murderous bastards, all of you!"

"Hans, you know I would never lay a finger upon Freya," yelled the figure beside Hans' mother. His voice was deep and commanding; the voice that one must always listen to. But something had snapped in Hans, and it was clear the crazed look in his eyes stemmed from grief.

"Lies! You thought you could hush the matter up, didn't you? Unfortunately, as it is, the evidence is not in your favour!" Hans' fury couldn't disguise the tears in his voice, and I suddenly felt nothing but pity for him.

"I may not agree with your choice of a wife, but I would never dare to resort to murder."

"Your magic was found on her body. Who else could it be?"

"I don't know, my son. Just listen to me: don't put Erstürnach at risk simply because of one person. If you want revenge, then I'm right here, and so be it." Hans' father sounded surprisingly cool.

Hans merely reared his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed, seeming more beast than human. "You had this coming, dear father. So you willingly admit that you killed Freya?"

There was a brief pause. Only now did I notice that standing behind Hans' parents were sorcerers. And not just regular sorcerers: their faces were fierce and unyielding, and they all were assuming intimidating stances, ready to spring into action at a word.

These were fighters. The couple had their army behind them.

"As I've said before, I would never stoop to murder. However, if killing me will satiate your lust for blood, so be it. Just leave my people alone!" bellowed the lord.

Hans' lips drew into a sneer, one that was frighteningly reminiscent of Lord Himmel's today. "And as I've said before, you had this coming, dear father."

"Do not make me use my power on you, boy!"

"What are you waiting for? Stop me before it's too late!" Hans taunted, pipe raised to his lips.

Even through my unclear vision, I could see that the lord's expression was conflicted. He had a pipe in his hands too, but it wasn't put into playing position. His wife swayed indecisively beside him, spools of ribbons entwined around her fingers. Their army bristled; magic gathered in the air, reeking so strongly that my mouth tasted of lightning. They were waiting for their lord to give the order and attack Hans. The time for negotiations was over.

But the order never came.

Hans seized the moment of his parents' indecision and acted, blowing into his pipe. A melody rang out clear and true, rising above the storm. His magic added weight into the wind, urging it to run faster, fly higher, pushing it until it stung to open my eyes. My Core reacted violently, screaming a warning to me. I barely managed to ignore it, reminding myself that this was a vision, and nothing more.

How could a vision be so real yet unreal at the same time?

Everyone from the opposite side instantly cast their spells when Hans started playing, but something wasn't right—where there should be magic overwhelming the air, there was nothing, not even a spark. I closed my eyes and felt the stream of magic with my Core.

Strange. I could sense the other sorcerers' Cores, but as the magic slowly trickled out of them, it didn't take shape outside. Instead, it fizzled away and floated towards a single Core, burning brightly against the darkness.

Hans'.

I forced myself to open my eyes. Above, the eye of the storm was growing larger with every passing moment. Meanwhile, the Fountain's waters churned, moving together with the storm. And the master of this chaos was the man standing beside me.

Then I felt it: the Fountain's magic being drained and fed into his body. Hans was still playing his pipe, keeping it going at an unassuming, steady pace. I stared at him, knees nearly buckling when I realised what he was doing.

He was stealing the magic.

I didn't know how he was doing it, but he was, somehow. There was no doubt: everyone's magic and the Fountain's was trickling into him. While his surroundings grew darker, the sorcerers weaker, and the Fountain smaller, he was strengthening. Physically, I saw him glowing—actually glowing with all the energy that he was absorbing. With my Core, I knew that his was close to exploding. Cores were never meant to contain so much energy, and his was reaching a breaking point.

It expanded.

It should have been impossible, yet— He was actually using the magic he had stolen in order to expand his Core, allowing it to absorb more energy. It was like a bottomless pit, and nothing could stop it from taking what it wanted.

I heard distant shouting. No—not distant. It was only because the air itself was distorted that I couldn't hear properly. Chaos was erupting everywhere. Screams of panic rang in my ears at the understanding of what Hans was about to do.

He was going to drain Erstürnach's Fountain dry.

I stood wide-eyed, mouth open. It was a horrifying sight, to see the Fountain slowly being stolen of its magic. At the same time, it was undeniably fascinating. No one knew why Erstürnach had been destroyed. Only I did.

And I was watching as it fell apart.

An eternity could have passed by and I wouldn't have noticed. I was only remotely aware the sorcerers were desperately trying to attack Hans. Whatever magic they flung at him would only be swallowed up. Some had rushed over to this side, and were brandishing swords and shields or whatever weapons they had in hand, trying to injure Hans. To no avail. Their magic had been used to throw up an impenetrable shield around him, and there were no points of weaknesses in it.

Hans kept playing, apparently oblivious to the world around him. His melody grew—each note built atop the note before it, gradually soaring, taking flight. It was devastatingly beautiful.

How odd, that something so destructive could be so lovely.

At any rate, the Fountain's size being reduced. Hans glowed brighter with every passing second as the magic flowed into him. In the midst of the storm, he almost resembled an avenging saint descending from the heavens. My jaw went slack with awe. Perhaps this was where the legends that Magi were invincible warriors came from.

Then my vision exploded in brilliant light.

But this wasn't a transition. It was Hans himself. An invisible hand knocked me backwards, and I fell onto the ground, breathless. I doubled over, gasping for air. It's just a vision, it's just a vision...

Everything eventually came back into focus.

I blinked confusedly. The storm was gone, the castle still intact. It was peaceful.

I caught sight of a body, crumbling into dust.

My blood turned into ice. I scrabbled on the ground, trying to get away. They were everywhere: shrivelled husks of what they once were, an eerie reminder of the husk I'd seen back when I'd first discovered the secret chamber in Lord Himmel's castle. Their eyes were all rolled back into their heads, and their tongues lolled out, a grotesque black. They were all empty.

They were all dead. Hans had stolen their magic till there was nothing left of them.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. Shock was numbing my body. I locked my eyes onto one of the corpses, a familiar, feminine-looking one with dry brown hair and ribbons around its fingers.

I retched onto the ground.

Get up! I told myself. I did, albeit shakily. I forced myself to take in my surroundings, looking at anywhere but the ground, where the bodies were littered upon.

It wasn't much better.

Where there had been a Fountain, there was now a yawning pit in the centre of the courtyard. All its magic was gone. Only a deep gouge hinted at what had been inside there. My Core felt the absence of its energy keenly, and it wailed, mourning for the loss of such power.

I felt like sobbing.

Then I saw one of the bodies moving.

It wasn't a husk like the others. It looked almost like one, but it wasn't. It crawled on its knees towards Hans, before pulling itself up onto its feet with what little remained of its strength.

Even though he was bloodied and bruised and broken, I recognised the last lord of Erstürnach.

Lord Adolf Weilsterhein.

"What did you do?" His voice was cracked and small, disbelieving he took in his surroundings. He did not throw up, as I would've gladly done again.

"Showed you what you've done to me," Hans growled.

"This—are you even aware of what consequences this will have?"

"I don't care. Not anymore."

Something changed in Lord Adolf's demeanour. Where his eyes once shone with sorrow and pity, they now glinted with anger and determination. In his hands was a pipe, similar to Hans'. With a pang, I realised that father and son must have had their respective Mediums crafted by the same person.

Lord Adolf raised his pipe. "I'm sorry it came to this, my son," he said.

And he began to play.

My mind grew foggy. Even though this was a vision, I was still affected by the sheer power of the song. It was calling, beckoning, lulling me into its rhythm, but beneath the sweetness I detected darkness. My instincts screamed at me to run, to get away from the influence of the song, or to at least throw my hands over my ears. I just sat there, eyes glued onto Lord Adolf, unable to tear my attention away.

I knew he was trying to control Hans' mind.

Hans was already countering the spell. Both pipers blew into their Mediums, wrestling for dominance over the other. It was like watching—or rather hearing two angry bulls charging each other. Although the music was soothing on its own, together they formed something akin to thunder, clashing and dissonant, jarring me to the bones.

Eventually, one of the Cores weakened—and it was Lord Adolf's.

His eyes widened in disbelief, but he kept playing. Hans, on the other hand, already fuelled by the magic he had stolen from the Fountain and from the sorcerers, only grew stronger with each passing note. I felt the currents of magic passing from Lord Adolf and into his son; I knew what was going to happen next.

One melody cut off.

The older man's pipe clattered onto the ground, and he himself sank onto his knees, defeated. Hans towered over Lord Adolf, triumphant. A smirk lined his mouth. "And now I have your power," he said.

Lord Adolf raised his head weakly. I gasped. So was that how Lord Himmel had lured the children away? With the mind-control Affinity he'd stolen from his father?

It made sense.

Hans began to pick up another song. This time, he didn't stop, even as Lord Adolf keeled over in pain and cried out in agony, even as I felt the last trickle of magic within Lord Adolf getting eaten up, even as the once powerful Magus slowly turned into a husk before me. An empty scream clawed at the base of my throat.

Lord Adolf was dead.

And I knew how he'd died.

I knew how Erstürnach had fallen.

Most importantly, I knew who Lord Himmel had once been.

Speaking of which, he was staring into the pit, immobile. He looked like he was in shock. The pipe fell from his shaking hands, and he stared at them, as though he couldn't quite believe what he had just done.

Hans fell to his knees and sobbed.

Then all I could see was white, and this time, I wasn't going to return to the sight of Hans sobbing by the empty Fountain.

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