“Don’t you think it’s pointless? It’s obvious I have no talent for swordplay.” Augustine panted, already winded up from the short practice. The sword felt heavy in his arm, his shoulder ached, trembling with each parry, and he could feel a giant bruise forming on his upper thigh. Bowing to his tutor with any sort of dignity had been a challenge.

“Besides, it’s not like I need it. I could just… command my opponent to stop and they would stop,” he hissed quieter in his mother’s ear under the guise of grabbing the jug of water from the bench she was sitting on.

He also desperately needed a drink, so it wasn’t entirely a ruse.

She narrowed her eyes at him and with a gesture dismissed his tutor, to Augustine’s eternal relief.

“You realize you can’t use your magic in every situation, right? Some people will resist it, some creatures are impervious to such control. What do you plan to do then?”

“Yeah, well, if I meet someone that bad, a sword will be the last thing to save me!” Augustine took a deep breath and willed himself not to blow up. It was easy for her to talk – she could be whatever she wanted to be, quite literally, so long as she could offer her body to an appropriate spirit.

Even though Augustine would never say it out loud, it felt a little like cheating on her part.

“Mother,” he started, unsure how to phrase it without sounding like an ungrateful brat. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but… maybe you could let me figure out on my own what works for me.”

She sighed and stood up, fixing the eyepatch on her left eye. Augustine wondered if she actually was nervous, and that thought sat uncomfortably with him. She’d always been strong – versatile, knowledgeable, if sometimes forceful. She’d always had a tight hold on her emotions, and taught Augustine to do the same, so seeing any outward signs of her inner turmoil was extremely unusual.

“I just worry, dear.” She came up to him and reached up to stroke his face. “I know… what kinds of things are out there. I know what kinds of things covet the sort of talent you have. I don’t want you to be caught unprepared.”

Augustine allowed himself to crack a small reassuring smile. “My talent isn’t that rare, mother. And I know how to be careful. I’ll be fine, I promise. Just let me figure out my life on my own.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it in his, trying to be reassuring and confident.

He must have done something right, because after a few moments of staring his mother patted his cheek and took a step back. “I know. But I’m your mother, it’s my job to worry.”

“I know,” he echoed. “But you need to let me go at some point.”

…that had been three months ago and on second thought, maybe that point could afford to come a little later.

Sheila, his current traveling companion and temporary bodyguard, nimbly tugged him by the arm, making the longsword miss his neck by a hair’s breadth. She kicked the masked man in the crotch and used the momentum to pivot into another attacker, landing a clean hit on his throat.

“Any minute now, kid!”

And wasn’t like Augustine wasn’t trying, but it was very hard to concentrate when there were weapons flying around everywhere. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, finding the strings to the minds of people around him and tugging the right way once he saw an opening.

The enemy right in front of Sheila froze, and she knocked him out with a large “whoop!” before dancing to the next man, and the next one…

After that first success, Augustine felt easier. The assassin trying to sneak on Sheila suddenly dropped his weapons, the large guy to his left grabbed his head and bent over in excruciating pain. Sheila made quick work of the rest.

“Well. Any idea why they were after you?” Sheila finally asked, curiously patting the pockets of the one that seemed to be the leader – Augustine wasn’t sure if she was looking for signs of his allegiance or just trying to rob the man dry.

“How do you know they were after me? Maybe it’s you they wanted!”

“Yeah, right.” Sheila sent him a pointed look. “I know the kind of people that come after me.”

Eventually she fished a letter out of her victim’s pocket and turned it over in her hands several times.

“I have no idea what this says,” she shrugged and passed it over to Augustine.

He could see why she would have difficulty. It was written in an old, dead language, rarely needed by anyone but academics. Even he struggled, but he got the idea.

“It’s a location,” he announced. “A rather convoluted way to send an address, but I think I know what it’s talking about.”

“Huh. No names?”

“No names.”

Sheila bit her lower lip and frowned. “So is it a location to… pick up the reward? To bring you to?”

Augustine reread the letter. “It’s just a place. It doesn’t say anything else.”

“Smells like a trap,” Sheila hummed. After a moment she elbowed his side almost gently, “Want to check it out?”

Augustine sighed. Of all of his and his mother’s acquaintances, Sheila was probably the most fun one, but also one of the most reckless. Still, he couldn’t deny he was curious.

“Maybe,” he admitted, and Sheila beamed. “But not tonight! We’ll go in the morning. The letter didn’t mention any specific time.”

“Spoilsport,” Sheila pouted, but yielded. “We probably should deal with those guys, too.”

That took a surprisingly short time – Sheila easily strongarmed some drunkards at the tavern into bringing all the attackers to the police station, and Augustine hurried to entice them further with the promise of a generous reward for delivering wanted criminals.

(He had no idea if that was true, but what mattered was that it was believable enough.)

When he went to bed, the adrenaline must have been still running through his veins, because he slept terribly, his dreams haunted by vague whispers and strange figures. When he woke up he could barely cling to the remnants of those dreams, and decided it would be more productive to focus on waking Sheila up and finding the mysterious place.

They had to ask around some, which was harder than it should have been due to the extremely early hour. Eventually their search led them to an old, slightly lopsided tower on the edge of the town, that looked like something from either a fairy tale or a horror story.

“Definitely a trap,” Sheila nodded wisely. “Keep close.”

With every step they took towards the door, Augustine felt more and more uneasy. Something about this place didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t see or hear anything suspicious. The stone arch of the entrance had some old religious symbols on it, but nothing to indicate the tower’s purpose.

They exchanged looks, and then Sheila shrugged and knocked.

Within seconds, the door flung open. A man stood in the doorway, well-built and with a sword on his hip, but with weird little glasses on his nose that looked like they would fall at any moment.

“Ah, you’re here!” the man exclaimed. “Do come in, I’ve been expecting you.”

Augustine could feel Sheila’s gaze on his back. He… wasn’t sure he wanted to come in. Still, he took a single step into the tower, and then the man turned again, looking over Augustine’s shoulder at Sheila.

“Not you!” he laughed almost hysterically and the door swung close. Augustine jerked back, calling for his friend, but the man caught him by the collar and tugged further into the tower.

“Now, now, we have something to talk about.”

The close contact was unsettling. Augustine had never liked to be touched when he couldn’t feel in control of it, and this stranger kept a firm enough hold on his shirt that it was a little difficult to breathe.

“I just want to talk, really,” the stranger kept on babbling. “Here, here, isn’t this nice?”

Augustine found himself in a small round room with some kind of mechanism on the table in the middle. The walls were filled with writing of some kind, but it was mostly illegible. Augustine could only make out some symbols, the names of ancient gods and devils.

The stranger unsheathed his sword then, and Augustine stepped back, uneasy.

“Touch it,” the stranger ordered.

“What?”

The stranger smiled again, a toothy, happy smile. The man was mad, Augustine decided. Or maybe this was all an elaborate dream fueled by his imagination and last night’s squabble.

“Touch the device. Now, go on.” The man prodded him with a sword, making Augustine move closer to the table.

Augustine eyed the device curiously. It didn’t seem like much, just some metal figures and gears, but he knew appearances could be deceiving. Carefully, he pressed one finger to the smooth surface, and after a few moments the device came to life.

It spun, a dim glow coming from somewhere inside it, and Augustine felt a strange pull on his mind.

He immediately took his hand back, alarmed, and turned to his kidnapper.

“You live…” the stranger exhaled, reverent.

“I… shouldn’t have?” Augustine swallowed around his dry throat. The device thrummed, insistent, and the stranger laughed.

“Ah, who cares! I have finally found a vessel.”

“What?” Augustine’s head spun. “A vessel for what?”

Was the man trying to summon a demon or something? Augustine was certain it didn’t work like that.

The man’s laugh turned almost sobbing.

“I touched it too, you know? I was strong, I survived. But I wasn’t worthy, you see, I wasn’t worthy of being a vessel. I don’t have the strength to call a god’s soul to this realm. But you… oh, you do! I’ve spent so long looking for someone like you!” The man’s eyes were manic, and for the first time that morning, Augustine felt truly afraid.

Whatever that device was, it had driven this man to insanity and who knew how many others to their deaths.

Whatever that device was, the stranger was nudging Augustine’s hand to put it back there, and if he could just get away for long enough to concentrate…

Maybe he should have learned the sword, after all.

Distantly, Augustine wondered why it was so quiet. He would have expected Sheila to have broken the door by then, to raise a racket outside. But it was as if the tower was completely cut off from the outside world, or maybe he got taken further in than he realized.

His palm was pressed forcefully on the part of the machine that looked like an hourglass, and the whirring picked up again, as did the pressure on Augustine’s mind. Something clicked, and Augustine had to take a few steps back as the device lit up and started unfolding.

What could previously be taken as a bizarre decoration eventually took up the greater part of the room, looking more like a cage than anything else. The glow from within started pulsing, and Augustine suddenly felt exhausted. He tried to take his hand back, but it was almost crushed in the other man’s grip, who nonetheless wasn’t paying Augustine any attention.

Then, a figure appeared in the center of the cage. It was as if it was carved from shadows cast by the device’s glow, unsteady and not-quite-there.

“I did it…” the man exhaled disbelievingly, and then laughed again. “I did it! I did as you wanted! I found you a vessel!”

The shadows moved, and suddenly one hand reached out of the cage towards the two of them. Augustine flinched away, but it aimed for the other man, landing on his head.

“Oh, child,” the darkness whispered, the voice echoing in different timbres across the room. “I never wanted this for you.”

The madman’s hopeful smile dimmed.

“You rest, now,” the darkness continued, and then to Augustine’s horror the man’s grip on him lessened, and the stranger collapsed on the floor with glassy eyes.

Augustine ripped himself away, but nothing changed. The person in the cage remained there, shimmering with the whirring of the machine.

Whatever it was, Augustine knew it was dangerous, and he reached out with his mind, but only found nothingness. The creature didn’t move, and Augustine hurried to pick up the sword the madman had dropped when he fell.

And yet, the creature still didn’t attack. In fact it was as if it was… smiling.

The first wave of panic subsided, and Augustine took a careful step forward. “What are you?..” he questioned, and to his surprise, the shadow spoke.

“You shouldn’t have come for me.”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Augustine replied, defensive for a reason he couldn’t name.

“You should leave.” The figure’s features focused a bit more, but Augustine still couldn’t make out much beyond loose robes and messy hair. “This was never meant to happen.”

“What was not meant to happen?!” Augustine asked, exasperated. “What’s going on, who are you?”

The glow within the machine started turning a brighter color, and the metal of the cage grew hot and uncomfortable to the touch. Augustine started, looking at his hands. He hadn’t realized when he’d come so close, when he’d gripped the device. For some reason, he couldn’t force himself to leave.

The shadow came closer and pushed him with one finger on the chest, making him stumble from the unexpected force. He didn’t drop dead, and his head suddenly cleared, but the figure in the cage lost some of its definition and the walls started trembling.

“Leave,” the whispers repeated. There was something familiar about the voice, even though Augustine couldn’t place it and couldn’t even tell how the voice really sounded, too full of reverb and echoes. “This place was never for mortals to find.”

“Who are you?!” Augustine cried desperately, clawing at the barrier that grew hotter with every minute. He wasn’t sure why, but he needed to be there, to break the wall, to drag them out of there…

“I am the ashes of a world that had died long ago,” the voice whispered in his ear, suddenly close. “I am but a memory. Don’t cling to ghosts.”

“Austin? Who the heck are you talking to?!” Sheila’s voice broke through the whispers in his head. “Have you gone mad? We need to get out of here!”

The whisper was barely audible by then, the space around them cracking and collapsing with a sound that made Augustine’s head hurt. “Never meant… to happen like this…”

Sheila grabbed his arm, and Augustine let himself be dragged. His head was spinning, and only once they were safely outside and Sheila started frantically checking him out for any injuries, he realized he was still clutching at the sword.

He looked at it, unsure. No weapon had ever felt comfortable in his hand, but this one felt somehow right. He looked at it, and to his surprise the sword became slightly shorter and lighter in front of his eyes, its weight perfect for his arm. Some kind of writing began to show on the blade, and Augustine brought it closer to his eyes to make out the delicate letters.

A phoenix burns, to rise anew from ashes.

“Old world that had died long ago,” Augustine thought. What was the mysterious person trying to say? Were the mysteries of the past really not worth seeking?

Sheila was looking at him weirdly, and he raised a tired eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Your hair…” she started, looking uncertain, and Augustine brought a hand to card it through his hair.

It was there, at least, the short strands feeling familiar under his fingers. But Sheila was shaking her head almost pityingly, and Augustine brought the sword up unthinkingly to cut a lock of hair.

It fell from his fingers, waltzing in the wind, and Augustine suddenly understood the reason behind Sheila’s expression.

The hair that just that morning had been completely black, was a pure, stark white.

He suddenly felt very, very tired.

“Are you alright, Austin?” Sheila asked. “Did that… did he do something to you?”

The more Augustine though about it, the more he wondered if it was the man’s fault at all. Faced with a power beyond imaginative, driven to madness by an artifact he couldn’t control or understand… Now that everything was over, he felt pity rather than fear.

“I’m fine, Sheila,” he murmured and looked back at the tower that seemed to be melting and collapsing on itself.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Augustine looked down at the sword in his hand, and remembered the sorrowful ghost from the tower. This wasn’t something he could fix, but maybe… just maybe, he could make sure something like that wouldn’t happen again.

—–

I, uh. Should have known better than trying to fit Director Hayes’s entire backstory into a single oneshot. So this is late because it’s so fucking long oh my goodness why did I have to write something so long