Story Title: Choosing Fate
The harsh metallic thuds echoed through Melantha’s research facility. She did her best to ignore them but could feel the sweat on her palms and her back grow ever colder. She pushed the sensation away, eyes focused on the sigil she was drawing on the stone floor.
The banging was as oppressive as the emptiness of this stone building. She could only hope the others had gotten far enough away through the emergency tunnels. Hartmut, who’d always looked more like he should be wielding a sword rather than a pen. Taimi, her fingers dirty from her time in the garden. Menander, who doodled little pictures on the edges of his papers. Blythe, with her easy smile and jokes to ease the tension.
The people who’d become her family. The people she’d unknowingly put into danger with this. She blinked the prickles in her eyes away, focusing back on the elaborate symbol her chalk created. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake, any more than she could have afforded to go with them, despite what they’d begged.
She should have known it would come to this. Should have known better than to trust the promises of Emperor Cyneric, despite her ties to Empress Lucasta.
Her research was supposed to help people. To save them. When she’d first proposed creating a universal antidote, she’d envisioned it being used to save people, to give them time for a healer to purify their body before the poison fully spread. The poison she’d created in the process had been an accident, but she’d thought her antidote would be the perfect failsafe for it.
Until Cyneric had weaponized it with magic, his operatives deploying it in the heart of Viltautasian capital.
When she heard what the symptoms of the poison decimating the city were, Melantha had known the truth. Cyneric would never let them live. She’d locked them all into the facility, tried to contact their allies for help, for a way out, anything, but found they’d already been blocked.
And now the imperial soldiers were trying to break in.
It was only a matter of time until they succeeded. And while the others might be able to hide, to change their identities and get away, Cyneric wouldn’t rest until she was dead. Not just because she was the driving force behind the project, but because if Melantha got the truth to Lucasta, she’d hate Cyneric for the rest of their lives. And that was the one thing Melantha knew he feared most.
The tortured screech of twisting metal was followed by a clanking crash. Melantha didn’t need to hear the stomping of heavy boots to tell her she was out of time. Sweat dripped down her cheek as she worked to finish the last letter, the last piece in a design that was the culmination of her personal research.
She couldn’t be sure it would work, but she didn’t have any other options. She’d bet on this, on a different future, one where her knowledge might be able to undo the horror she had never meant to unleash.
Melantha threw the chalk away, dropping her shaking hands onto the ground at the base of the intricate combination of loops, swirls, and magic characters that stood out white against the dark stone of the floor. She poured her magic into it, not holding any of it back. There was no point now.
She heard the splintering crash of doors being kicked in, almost swallowing the sound of the still approaching footsteps. She ignored it, feeling her body go cooler as she pushed every last bit of warmth, of the spark of her magic, into the sigil. It absorbed it all like the myth of the ever-hungry dragon.
Melantha could taste blood as her muscles felt weaker and weaker. The door behind her exploding was almost distant, the shouts like the buzzing of a flies. Her vision swam and wavered, everything dyed red, before she could feel the last breath leave her lungs.
The sword that should have pierced her back met only air, one filled with fading sparks.
The hairs all over Melantha’s body rose, an odd sensation when she’d already left her corporeal form behind. She saw the imperial soldiers, in their dark uniforms, looking around, bewildered. Before she could do anything else, she felt herself being pulled away.
Caught in the swirl of time, magic, and power that flowed invisible through the world, unable to do anything but be brought along with the current, she wondered if she’d made the right choice. Not that she had any other option. Cyneric had seen to that.
In the flow of power that sparkled iridescently, she caught brief glimpses of the world. Or worlds. It was hard to tell whether she was seeing the past, present, future, or something else entirely. Her research had hinted at the possibility of other worlds beyond hers, but she had never found hard evidence.
Up ahead she could see it. Several streams converged and spread back out again, the flow like a giant web. Or a crossroads. Each direction looked the same, and yet, Melantha knew that whatever way she chose, it would change both herself, and where she ended up, forever.
It had cost her magic, her lifeforce, even her body, but Melantha thought the price would be worth it. Her decades of memories would be preserved. And that could only make this next life better. Closing her eyes, she let the currents of power choose her fate.
The harsh metallic thuds echoed through Melantha’s research facility. She did her best to ignore them but could feel the sweat on her palms and her back grow ever colder. She pushed the sensation away, eyes focused on the sigil she was drawing on the stone floor.
The banging was as oppressive as the emptiness of this stone building. She could only hope the others had gotten far enough away through the emergency tunnels. Hartmut, who’d always looked more like he should be wielding a sword rather than a pen. Taimi, her fingers dirty from her time in the garden. Menander, who doodled little pictures on the edges of his papers. Blythe, with her easy smile and jokes to ease the tension.
The people who’d become her family. The people she’d unknowingly put into danger with this. She blinked the prickles in her eyes away, focusing back on the elaborate symbol her chalk created. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake, any more than she could have afforded to go with them, despite what they’d begged.
She should have known it would come to this. Should have known better than to trust the promises of Emperor Cyneric, despite her ties to Empress Lucasta.
Her research was supposed to help people. To save them. When she’d first proposed creating a universal antidote, she’d envisioned it being used to save people, to give them time for a healer to purify their body before the poison fully spread. The poison she’d created in the process had been an accident, but she’d thought her antidote would be the perfect failsafe for it.
Until Cyneric had weaponized it with magic, his operatives deploying it in the heart of Viltautasian capital.
When she heard what the symptoms of the poison decimating the city were, Melantha had known the truth. Cyneric would never let them live. She’d locked them all into the facility, tried to contact their allies for help, for a way out, anything, but found they’d already been blocked.
And now the imperial soldiers were trying to break in.
It was only a matter of time until they succeeded. And while the others might be able to hide, to change their identities and get away, Cyneric wouldn’t rest until she was dead. Not just because she was the driving force behind the project, but because if Melantha got the truth to Lucasta, she’d hate Cyneric for the rest of their lives. And that was the one thing Melantha knew he feared most.
The tortured screech of twisting metal was followed by a clanking crash. Melantha didn’t need to hear the stomping of heavy boots to tell her she was out of time. Sweat dripped down her cheek as she worked to finish the last letter, the last piece in a design that was the culmination of her personal research.
She couldn’t be sure it would work, but she didn’t have any other options. She’d bet on this, on a different future, one where her knowledge might be able to undo the horror she had never meant to unleash.
Melantha threw the chalk away, dropping her shaking hands onto the ground at the base of the intricate combination of loops, swirls, and magic characters that stood out white against the dark stone of the floor. She poured her magic into it, not holding any of it back. There was no point now.
She heard the splintering crash of doors being kicked in, almost swallowing the sound of the still approaching footsteps. She ignored it, feeling her body go cooler as she pushed every last bit of warmth, of the spark of her magic, into the sigil. It absorbed it all like the myth of the ever-hungry dragon.
Melantha could taste blood as her muscles felt weaker and weaker. The door behind her exploding was almost distant, the shouts like the buzzing of a flies. Her vision swam and wavered, everything dyed red, before she could feel the last breath leave her lungs.
The sword that should have pierced her back met only air, one filled with fading sparks.
The hairs all over Melantha’s body rose, an odd sensation when she’d already left her corporeal form behind. She saw the imperial soldiers, in their dark uniforms, looking around, bewildered. Before she could do anything else, she felt herself being pulled away.
Caught in the swirl of time, magic, and power that flowed invisible through the world, unable to do anything but be brought along with the current, she wondered if she’d made the right choice. Not that she had any other option. Cyneric had seen to that.
In the flow of power that sparkled iridescently, she caught brief glimpses of the world. Or worlds. It was hard to tell whether she was seeing the past, present, future, or something else entirely. Her research had hinted at the possibility of other worlds beyond hers, but she had never found hard evidence.
Up ahead she could see it. Several streams converged and spread back out again, the flow like a giant web. Or a crossroads. Each direction looked the same, and yet, Melantha knew that whatever way she chose, it would change both herself, and where she ended up, forever.
It had cost her magic, her lifeforce, even her body, but Melantha thought the price would be worth it. Her decades of memories would be preserved. And that could only make this next life better. Closing her eyes, she let the currents of power choose her fate.
