Chapter 1[]
She couldn't see anyone in the vicinity, but she knew she was not alone.
It was dark in Lamplight Town, save for the dulled glow of the streetlights flickering quietly against the starless velvet sky. The chill air tugged insistently at her cloak with sharp, cold fingers, poised to rip back her hood and reveal her carefully-shielded identity.
A sharp crack drew her attention to a darkened cluster of bushes, followed by a soft gasp, a mumbled curse word.
There you are.
She spun around, weak light reflecting off the lenses of her glasses.
"Come out, then." she taunted, stepping forward.
A figure pushed out of the bushes, leaves stuck in his dusky blue hair and clinging to the fabric of his Trialmaster's cloak.
"So we meet again, Leslie." Xander Winterchaser spat.
"I really don't know what you want from me." Leslie said. "I mean, seriously. Stalking me like this is really f*cking low."
Xander shrugged. "I mean, you are a traitor, Leslie. You refused to stand by my side when I saw my errors and joined the Trialmasters. We're really right about this, you know. Someday you'll see the error of your ways too. It's really not worth it for your pathetic band of rebels to keep fighting."
Leslie pulled a pack of cigarettes and a sleek black lighter topped with a gold dragon head. She took out a cigarette, delicately placing it between her bloodred lips, lit it carefully, and tucked the lighter and pack into a hidden picket in her cloak. She inhaled calmly, looked Xander dead in the eye, and exhaled a filthy, spicy cinnamon cloud directly into his face.
Xander coughed, waving the cloud of cigarette smoke out of his face.
"You disgusting b*tch." he hissed, eyes watering. "F*ck you. No wonder you're on their side, you loathsome wh*re."
He stomped off, muttering ugly words between coughs, leaving a sickening trail of fury in the air behind him.
"Good riddance then, a**hole." she said to the cold, empty night, the bitter chill sweet with cinnamon smoke, slow-acting poison filling her lungs and those of anyone unfortunate enough to breathe in the secondhand smoke.
A sweet cloud of toxicity, death left behind by someone so protective of others' precious lives.
Chapter 2[]
"I have no idea what that d*ckhead wants with me, anyway." Leslie huffed, slumped at a rickety table back in the hideout.
Romyn, a pixie with pale-green skin and blue hair, hovered sympathetically next to her.
"He does think you're the traitor in this one. Wrong as he is, Xander was always stubborn as hell. He insisted upon getting his way, at all costs."
"True. He never lets go of anything, no matter how ridiculous it is. He's not even on the f*cking internet, which is funny, because he'd be great at it."
"Exactly." Romyn eyed Leslie's pack of cigarettes. "Can you spare a smoke for a poor sinner?"
Leslie tipped the packet into her open palm, carefully releasing a single cigarette, which she handed to the pixie. "Only for you, Romyn. Only for you."
He lit it with his own sleek silver lighter, the two quietly filling the room with their secondhand death.
"Florian said he'd come by soon-I hope he can make good on that promise."
"I have to talk to him if he does-maybe he knows more about that creep. We did go to the Academy together, before he turned on us."
It was true-Xander had been a protective, friendly wizard back in the day, albeit considerably stubborn, but he had changed.
Leslie remembered her first day at the Academy, as a frightened nine-year-old in ill-fitting spectacles that didn't frame her face properly, confused and uncertain.
Xander was a couple years older than her, but the two of them had some of the same classes and shared a dorm room, and he helped her learn the ropes. They stuck together like glue, and would never abandon each other.
At least, so Leslie had assumed.
But that wasn't important.
This world was full of cruelty and betrayal. Might as well get used to it.
A young faun in a green jacket burst in, pausing to catch their breath and looking up at Leslie and Romyn with panicked eyes.
"The Earth Warden is here!" they announced.
Florian followed behind, immaculate in an emerald cloak, the ceremonial gold circlet with sharp gold leaves and intricate jeweled flowers in a rainbow of colours crowning his neatly-gelled brown-and-green hair.
"No need for the introduction, Fern. It's fine." he reassured the faun.
Leslie got up.
"Can I get you anything, Florian?" she offered.
"No, thank you. I don't need anything."
He sank down into an empty chair. "I really can't stand the Trialmasters."
"Me too." Leslie agreed. "I ran into Xander on the way back here, and he's still a d*ck."
"No surprise there."
Florian's amber eyes flickered over the young woman, filled with concern.
"How far along are you?" he asked softly.
Leslie's hand fluttered down to the soft curve of her abdomen underneath her gown, the only slight indication that she was pregnant.
"Two months now, and...and..." she trailed off, tugging at a wayward strand of hair that had escaped her careful bun.
"What is it?"
"I don't know if I can do this." she confessed, the words seeming to take all the air out of her. She slumped inward, hands resting on the slight bump that barely showed her current state.
"It's okay. You're okay." Florian reached out, gently taking her hand in his own.
"You know you can get an abortion, right?" he asked. "It's your body, your choice. You have every right to, and I'll support you all the way."
Leslie shook her head.
"Florian...I think I want to keep the baby."
"The Trialmasters will use it against you." he warned. "Because it was with a guy you barely knew, and don't know how to find now. Because you're taking on all this sh*t while you're with child. Because you're a strong, brave woman, and you're defying their expectations, and they don't like that."
"I know." she said. "But I can do this."
"I have no doubt you can. And I'm here for you, no matter what."
Chapter 3[]
The months passed in a blur of training for the next battle, stockpiling any supplies they could get their hands on, and working to keep the hideout from being discovered.
And Leslie watched her body grow and change as the child formed inside her.
It was confusing and scary and painful, but this was what she'd chosen, so this was what she'd have to live with.
She lay on her small cot, trying to concentrate on the pages of the book held in her hands.
The baby was kicking again-their tiny, half-formed legs were surprisingly strong, and their sleep schedule didn't match Leslie's, so often when she was trying to rest, they'd be wide awake and kicking away.
Leslie set the book aside, one hand fluttering over the curve of her belly, feeling the unborn child leap inside.
She hoped she was ready to be a mother. Florian had told her she'd be okay, and that he had so much faith in her, but she didn't have nearly that much faith in herself.
"Les?"
Romyn's feather-light touch caressed her shoulder.
"What the hell?" she yelped, pulling away.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm worried about you, though. You can't just stay inside all the time."
"Romyn, I'm fine." Leslie insisted.
"Alright. We should probably take a walk, though. You've been cooped up in here way too long."
"What else can I do?" the jet-haired woman asked. "I can't go out like this. You heard what Florian said, the Trialmasters will target me more now. It's not safe."
"I know." he said. "But we've been giving safety the finger since this all started, so you might as well go out. Besides, we need to go shopping, and you're the best at haggling."
"Fine." Leslie huffed. "Let's go."
Outside, the two found an unusual sight waiting for them.
A diminutive anthropomorphic wolf was standing there, concentrating on the dark purple Shadow magic forming between his paws. He wore a forest-green cloak over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tan cargo pants.
He held the bubble of Shadow skyward, and it shot up from his paw, expanding outward into a great, protective dome of Shadows.
"Professor!" Romyn called. "Good to see you."
The wolf turned around.
"Romyn, Ms. Goldencrafter. Lovely to see you both."
Leslie had always loved the way he called her that, a term of respect precious to many teenagers, especially ones forced to grow up too fast like her.
"Good to see you too, Professor Scoog. What are you doing here?"
"Additional protection measures." the professor explained. "Because I possess Shadow magic, my shields can protect against most Elemental magic that the Trialmasters might use against us."
"They might trace it and target you." Romyn warned.
Professor Scoog brushed the warning off. "I do not care. They will kill me eventually anyway, I may as well go down fighting. Besides, the spell will remain after my death, and they are so afraid of actually dealing with Shadows that they will never bother figuring it out."
"You can't just let them kill you, though." Leslie protested.
"Leslie, if it is for the survival of our revolution, then yes I can."
Chapter 4[]
Florian's visits were infrequent, as he had much to do and wanted to keep the hideout as well-hidden as possible, but when he did drop by, it was quite an event.
Many resources were difficult to obtain, as battling for currency and shopping were dangerous activities. Florian often supplied them all with whatever necessities he could get his hands on-at present, it was hard to get good clothing or shoes, so Florian was bringing in fabric and thread, as well as completed garments.
This was especially important because Leslie no longer fit in much of her old clothing. There wasn't room for herself and the unborn baby, so she needed new gowns that could accommodate both of them.
Leslie always wore long, elegant red gowns, fabric the color of blood, a bright, desperate scream against the grey monotony around her. Her new maternity clothes would have to be the same color and style.
Another essential resource was good weapons.
Leslie, being a skilled wandcrafter, could provide those. She needed no direction, just raw materials and tools.
Often she stuck to the traditional designs, though she had quite a few of her own, and she liked to update the wands of her fellow rebels.
Right now, Leslie was updating a Training Staff, etching runes into the wood and coating it with a polish that she'd brewed herself.
It was a grueling task, leaving splinters in her hands and caught under her fingernails, the reek of wand polish everywhere, aches in her back from bending over the worktable for so long, but it was a labor of love.
Leslie was really getting used to those.
She finished polishing the wand and set it aside, focusing on removing the multitude of splinters that had pierced the skin of her hands during her work.
This was exhausting. She was tired of this, tired of staying back and making weapons, knowing people were dying out there.
They'd have to let her out at some point.
Splinters fell to the floor, stained with blood.
F*ck this, she missed Xander.
He'd been her closest friend before all of this.
Leslie just wanted him back.
They were both orphans, residing in the on-site housing at the Academy. Sharing a room, as well as having some of the same classes, led them to becoming fast friends.
Chapter 5[]
The dorm room was the most generic, with the bare minimum-beds with plain, striped sheets and pillows, blue regulation duvets, a rug on the floor. Wooden wall closets and drawers, a large mirror, a sink with a smaller mirror above it and a cabinet below. White curtains, cream walls.
Leslie sank down on the bed closest to the door, feeling the mattress give slightly under her weight, and surveyed the place.
The room was empty now, but surely she'd have a roommate. Leslie hoped it was someone nice, not like the mean kids at the orphanage who made fun of her glasses and tripped her in the dining hall when she had a full tray of food.
The door swung open, and another wizard entered.
He was tall and well-built, shaggy hair a dusky sunset blue, tips kissed with orange. He walked with confidence, shoulders back, expression bold and unapologetic. Clad in a flame-orange and cloud-pink tunic with blue and gold accents and purple boots, he looked fierce.
He looked like someone who actually belonged here, not like her.
Leslie was awestruck.
His burning amber gaze fixated on her.
"So you're my new roommate, huh? They made me move buildings because there's so many of you new students here."
"Sorry..." Leslie mumbled, nervously adjusting her glasses.
He shrugged. "No harm, no foul. What's your name, new kid?"
"I...I'm Leslie."
"Name's Xander."
He looked around.
"This place is generic as sh*t. We better get it fixed up, huh?" Xander lightly punched her on the shoulder.
Used to coarser language and harder, crueler hits directed at her, Leslie barely flinched.
"That'd be nice." she agreed.
Chapter 6[]
It would have been nice, to hold on to that. To the wizard Xander used to be-rough around the edges, but fiercely loyal and protective. He was like an older brother to Leslie.
But that was the f*cked-up thing about all of this. It tore everyone apart, ripping family bonds to shreds, leaving nothing worth saving behind.
Now he could be Leslie's demise, or vice versa.
Leslie didn't want that, but she didn't exactly have a say in the matter. War wasn't a time for emotional bullsh*t, and Xander would stop at nothing, so why should she let her feelings get in the way?
Quite honestly, Leslie didn't want to be unfeeling. She liked being able to feel things, pleasure and pain and sorrow and joy. She just didn't want to fail the people she'd vowed to protect with her life either.
Florian had killed before, and he wasn't cold or unfeeling. Far from it. He was one of the realest creatures Leslie knew, kind and protective, and beautifully, brutally honest.
Leslie wished she could be like that.
"Leslie?"
She looked up to see Florian standing over her.
Speak of the f*cking devil.
"How is the wand coming along?"
Leslie traced her thumb over the newly-etched runes in the pale, twisted wood of the Training Staff.
"I'm almost finished with this one. I wish I could do more, but I only have one pair of hands."
"It looks like you're already doing more than enough." Florian said. "But that's not why I'm here. May I sit down?"
Leslie nodded assent, and Florian sank into the chair next to her, removing a small scroll from within his robes.
"This is from the Trialmasters, if the seal is any indication. They want a meeting."