Betrayal Mass Effect

******

I put my flute to my lips and played.

A slow, gradual tune built upon chromatic notes and abrupt modulations came to life. My Core roared in defiance, finally free to unleash its rage after such a long time of remaining dormant. The tune reached higher, higher, vaulting towards the skies, the stars the moon. My magic poured out, solidifying into a barrier around me.

Then I changed the rhythm: more smooth transitions than sharp ones, and the melody became softer in shape. Less jarring, but more deadly. I felt my magic snaking towards the people like a thousand fingers, and each one of them were caught within it, unable to move within the trappings of my spell. I kept playing. The townsfolk were nothing more than several blots dancing across my vision, and their shouts was just an incumbent buzzing in the background. In this moment, there was nothing else except for me, my flute and my music.

My bones, my heart, my soul—all one with the music. There was only vengeance on my mind, and I clung onto that thought, continuing to hold my magic in place, feeding strength into it. I closed my eyes, feeling the magic that thrummed through my veins, revelling in its river, being swept away by the current. I wasn't afraid. This wasn't the drowning I'd experience the very first time I'd truly attempted magic. This was all me—every single note, every chord was of my own doing.

The power was being entwined with my soul: I was magic, and magic was me. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other started. Now I truly knew the meaning when Elise had said that the Core was a part of the body, no more than the heart and the limbs were. It was part of me and my identity. To have it taken away was death itself.

And so I played.

I didn't know when the song actually finished of its own accord, only that when I finally returned to myself, a barrier with pulsing blue light was protecting me, and the townsfolk were all in front of me, held in place with the strands of my magic.

And that they were smiling.

Then they moved.

Slowly at first, as though they were straining against bindings. Then stronger, more confident. At last, I felt something snap in the air—the tethers tying me to them. I doubled over, wheezing, acutely aware of the dispelling. My Core shrieked with incredulity, and I was left staring at them, dumbfounded. They weren't Magi. They weren't even sorcerers. How did they gain the power to resist my spell?

Their grins grew wider.

They raised their arms.

Swept it to one side.

And my barrier shattered.

It just shattered, literally exploding into a million glimmering fragments. I threw up my hands over my face in reflex, while my mind went into a blur, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. The explosion rocked me on my feet, catching me on all sides, compressing me in the middle of it all. My vision dimmed, and I felt my limbs slacken.

No, not like this.

A small voice kept me anchored to the world, and I told myself to hold my ground. I forced myself to recover quickly, staring the townsfolk down. They didn't move towards me, although they could have rendered me unconscious in the brief moment I'd been thrown off by the dispelling of my barrier.

"You cannot run, little mouse." Papa Gunter bared his teeth at me; I fought down the urge to weep and grovel at his feet.

"I may not be able to run, but I can try to fight," I snarled back, not revealing my fear.

"Oh really? Well then, try, little mouse. Just try."

I inhaled deeply, before blowing into my flute.

I didn't want to hurt them. They had done terrible things to me, but it just didn't feel right to fight fire with fire. It would only stoke the flames, allow it to consume others, drawing them into the never-ending circle of hatred.

So I weaved an illusion over myself instead.

I pictured myself blending into the night, with the occasional hint of silver here and there, reflecting snow and ice. I pictured myself being invisible to others' eyes, drawing the shadows from around me and painting over my body. I barely noticed what the tune was—a melancholic minor key?—only focusing on keeping myself alive at this point.

When I was sure that the illusion was fool proof, I quickly dropped the melody and ran.

I just ran, not bothering to pay heed to the direction I was heading towards. Hamelin wasn't a sanctuary anyway, so I made out for the wilderness. I waded through thick snow, adrenaline giving me the extra push I needed to move. There was hardly a break in the landscape. Everything was empty, quiet. So still. The only sounds I could heard were the angry yells giving chase after me and my own ragged breaths.

I cast a quick look behind me, seeing that my footprints were covered up by my magic. And yet the townsfolk seemed to instinctively know where I was heading for; they were right on my trail, and their steps were sure and confident. I whipped my head to return my attention to the front, keeping my gaze on a line of trees in the distance.

Then my skin was ripped away.

My illusion came unravelling, dark trails of black streaking away from me. I screamed, collapsing onto the ground. It was like the magic I had so carefully constructed over me had just crumbled, and its weight was almost unbearable. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, shaking. Nausea took root at the pit of my belly, and I retched when I couldn't contain it any longer.

"Get up, little mouse," laughed Papa Gunter. I groaned, just barely keeping myself conscious. The last few spells had drained so much of my energy, not because I was deprived of it, but more because of how they had all been so easily dispelled.

"I said, get up."

A kick landed in my ribs.

All the breath was knocked out of me, and I rolled sideways till the wounds on my back kissed the ground. The full moon stared down at me, mocking me. I looked at it, breathing heavily, exhausted, all the fight in me drained completely dry.

"You have power, don't you? Defend yourself."

This time, it wasn't Papa Gunter's voice. I sat up with a jolt, meeting violet eyes instead of brown; long black hair instead of short brown hair; a feminine, porcelain-perfect face instead of a wrinkled, hard and masculine one. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. No, my mind wasn't tricking me. "Elise?" I squeaked.

"I always knew you were weak."

Another hollow punch to the gut.

"You aren't my daughter, and you will never be. No daughter of mine would be so weak, to allow herself to get defeated so easily. You're a cripple, nothing more. A cripple who should have rotted away in Hamelin. You failed me—failed everyone."

Tears choked the base of my throat. I held my breath, dreading her next words.

"And now the world will die."

The slap came like a thunder clap. There was just fingers upon cheek, and the crack resonating in the air. But it didn't hurt. No, the purpose behind the slap was the reason it hurt. I bit down on my tongue, resisting the urge to bawl. I felt Elise sneering at me in disdain, her lips curled in disapproval.

"So weak. You have power, and yet you don't use it properly. What use is there of having an Affinity as powerful as yours, if you're only going to avoid using it?" she growled. "At this rate, Lord Himmel will have victory, whether you like it or not."

It was like I was being caught up in waves, being dashed against rocks. And each word she bit out was a new wave, roaring and churning and threatening to swallow me whole each time, drenching me in the consequences of my failures. "I'm sorry," was all I could offer.

"'Sorry' does not atone for your mistakes, fool girl. We need action from you."

Another slap. Another crack clapping in the air.

"Get up," said another voice. Male. Young. Fierce.

I looked towards the direction of the voice. Josef. My heart gave a queer, quick beat at the sight of him. He stood tall, the eyepatch over his left eye like a stain in the darkness, a remnant of what he had suffered. Elise stood beside him, a dwarf beside a giant. Both of them were unnervingly still. The townsfolk were right behind them, staring at me, lying on the ground in a broken heap.

"You have failed us, and now you can't even get up," they said together.

Get up, I said to myself. But I was so weak, and I was barely even managing to lift my head.

Get up.

Get up.

I had to get up.

I couldn't break. Not now, when we were so close to the finish line.

So I got up.

"Well, good to know that at least you still have the strength to stand, traitor," growled a new voice.

Lady Anya's.

I blinked, taking in the newcomers. They stood at the forefront—Lady Anya, Lady Gertrude, Heidi and the other sorcerers I had travelled with to Erstürnach. Their appearances were a little more haggard than I remembered; Lady Anya had a stray lock of hair escaping her braid.

"You played yourself right into the hands of Lord Himmel. Just because you're a Magus does not make you special, girl. Now you have doomed us all. And you don't even have the strength to defend yourself," she spat.

"I..." I opened my mouth, but I was at a loss for words. It was truth; there was no denying it. I was a fool for going back to Lord Himmel. I thought I had been right—clever even. But there was no denying it.

I was wrong.

I had always been wrong.

"Even now, you allow yourself to be so easily defeated," said Lady Gertrude. Her green eyes flashed like a viper's, ready to pounce and strike me. "Tell me, what is the use of being Anton's daughter if you can't even do a single useful thing?"

"After all that I'd done to put you back into shape, and you do this," Heidi added. Her expression, usually cheerful and full of light, was twisted into disgust.

"I'd never—"

I was cut off midsentence by Papa Gunter: "So, you're just as useless outside Hamelin, eh? Looks like my instincts about you were right after all."

"She was just as useless in Heidelberg," Elise piped up.

"Even more so in Erstürnach," said Lady Anya.

"You deserve to die," the chanted together, coming closer towards me. A sickening feeling crawled its way up my throat. Although the air was chilly, heat was emanating from every inch of my body. My hair was pasted to my forehead in cold sweat, and I saw everything through tangled curls.

I curled up into a ball, finally giving in. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stay strong, couldn't be the Magus everyone expected me to be. I wished that there were some other way to resolve this, but I couldn't see another way out.

I began to sing.

I didn't use my Medium at all. The words of the song came to me naturally, as though it were flowing from the mouth of a river and into an ocean. The melody was lilting, high, dancing with the stars and moon above. Yet power raced through its lines, and my song extended its reach to everyone's minds, tying threads of magic from me to them. I should have felt exhausted, or be corrupted by using too much magic, but this wasn't just a spell. It was part of me, part of my soul. I was just using it like how I would use my fingers to play my flute.

This was my Affinity.

Gradually, I felt myself easing into the others' minds. They were strangely empty, as though they had no free thought of their own. It was also disorientating to be in so many places at once: I was Papa Gunter; Lady Anya; Elise; the Mayor; Josef; Heidi; Lady Gertrude; and many other people, and myself. My perception of the world shifted, being compiled from multiple points of view and into one scene.

I took in a deep breath, poured more emotion into my song, and forced them to do as I wanted them to.

Then I heard another song.

It sounded familiar, a tune from a far-off dream. It interwove with mine, seeming to fill my own song up in all the right places, adding flavour and substance to it. However, as it continued, it slowly sought to overshadow my melody, devouring it up. I pushed myself, lending more weight to my song, refusing to submit to it. But it was stronger.

My hold over everyone's minds cut off.

My vision went white.

******