Devotia Ch. 24: Fury

24 - Fury

It's Junivere who finds her first.

Her fellow Devotia, her love, storms into Hamada's home with an expression on her face that Callie has never seen before - one that chills her to the very bone.

She'd known Junivere had found her. Hamada's wards, augmented with the support of Baris, easily alerted them to the presence of an unexpected visitor. A brief discussion occurred before Baris was convinced to lower the wards and allow the Devotia to enter.

And when she does, she enters full of the passion and fury Callie has always loved in her. That fiery spark which always found its way into her stare, her words, her spirit. Junivere is as unshakeable as Callie wishes she could be.

"A letter!?" She screams, brandishing the parchment forth.

"I wanted you to know why I made the-,"

"A letter."

Junivere towers over, and in the periphery of her vision Callie notices Baris and Hamada both flinch protectively over her. The gesture is appreciated. Staring up at her taller lover, Callie elects to remain silent for fear of invoking further rage.

She hoists the parchment up and reads, with a growl in her voice, "'I need you to understand, I've thought this through, and I trust the goddesses - this is the only way.'" Junivere thrashes it down to glare at Callie. "The only way is to cast Calvin and I aside and die without saying goodbye? To not even give us the decency of a farewell? And even then I'm somehow entertaining the idea that this plan even is a solution!"

"I've got a feel-,"

"I've also got a feeling, Callana," Callie reactively flinches as well - it's been so long since Junivere has called her that, "but that feeling isn't telling me to get myself killed! What's so horrible about a life with us in Tulla? Your pride truly won't allow you to live another day, to consider that some of us rather like it when you're alive in this world?"

"It isn't a sense of pride-,"

"She'll kill you. You understand that, right?"

"I've got a plan-,"

"She's the most powerful mage alive. Neither of these two plucky Magisters behind you could even beat her!" She releases an exasperated qualification. "Hamada only lived because you found a way to illegally bless her."

"I've never admitted to doing that-,"

Junivere's incredulous, impatient frown silences her. When she speaks again, the Devotia is more solemn, more somber. "I don't want you to go through with this."

"Velena has already agreed, and the ceasefire is the only thing preventing more fighting in the streets," Callie rebuttals unconvincingly.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I have to."

"Why?"

"I just do."

"No you don't. Leave with us. Live."

"I can't do that."

"Because you don't love us enough to stick around?"

Callie recoils. Swallows. "Because I'll never be able to love myself if I don't try."

Junivere's rage falters. Within the horrible weight of the moment she starts sobbing, finally allowing her worry to overtake her. Callie instinctively pulls forward and embraces her.

"I love you and Calvin more than anything," she whispers. "But I'm not willing to be the scared, fragile woman I've been for so long. If I run away from this, I'll always be a shell of myself. You'll lose the woman you love either way."

Junivere pulls Callie in deeper, letting her tears smear against her cheek. "Gods damn you for picking this moment, of all times."

"I'm rather hoping the goddesses not damn me for this." With a pit in her stomach, Callie mumbles, "How did Calvin take it?"

She pulls back and scowls at Callie, eyebrow raised accusingly.

"Poorly. I get it."

"He's in a fit, out marching down lines of Paladins and establishing their loyalty or having them removed from duty. Says he's not willing to risk any of them being a part of the Knighthood if the ceasefire collapses." Junivere sighs. "He thinks Knight-Captain Wellt is going to call for martial law if Velena wins."

Callie can't hide the tremble in her hands. Her plan is so contingent on the possibility of success - if she fails, Solva is primed for war.

Junivere now turns her attention to Callie's two accomplices, the Magisters doing their very best not to invoke her gaze. Baris is pretending to read over the heavy tome she brought with her to help. Hamada is pacing in tight circles.

"And this spell she mentioned - does it work?"

Hamada halts. Not wishing to sugarcoat anything, she replies forthright. "We're not sure."

"We're not sure," Junivere repeats, scowling at Callie.

Baris chirps up. "The logic isn't unfounded, and she's already demonstrated some of the core premises of the relevant Arcana - the concern is whether or not the logistics are... well...fatal."

"Fatal." Her emerald eyes flicker with worry.

"Devotia Callana remains convinced that Yala has taught her what she needs to know to pull it off. She considers us her safety."

"Does she now."

Callie steps back, hands tucked peaceably behind her back, and bows her head softly. "When Yala first appeared to me and anointed me, she showed me a display of the mirror drops more spectacular than anything I've seen from them since. Neither Velena nor Dynasa could come anywhere close to understanding what she did then. I believe the goddess was teaching me her Arcana."

Junivere nearly ignores her, furrowing her brows at the two almost-cowering Magisters. "When did she sleep last?"

Baris stammers. "I-I don't believe she slept at all last night, so it would be whenever before that."

A palm settles on Junivere's forehead, and she looks even more tired. She turns away, other hand on her hip, and walks off a few steps from the group. Callie follows her.

"Please don't do this." Before Callie can reply, Junivere is already adding, "I know you're going to, anyway. I also wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't try to talk you out of this." A breath. "Tulla is my home. I may not be Devotia there anymore, but I still have connections. You, Calvin, and I could have such a life there."

Callie feels as though her feet have been glued to the ground. "I can't let myself be chased out of another home, June. Everything inside of me is telling me not to."

Junivere is quiet for far longer than Callie is comfortable sitting in. She forces herself to remain calm while Junivere deliberates, trying not to give into the jittering, activating anxieties building. Nearly a quarter hour passes before her lover returns to her, resolution in her being, and exhales, "What do you need from me?"

- - -

Callie doesn't force herself to sleep. At a certain point, both Magisters Hamada and Baris agreed that preparing more would only harm her chances. There are only so many times Callie could repeat the sequence of her first moves in the duel, the quick patterns of assumptions to make depending on Velena's first move. And her spell, that haphazard, unknowable bastardization of the Arcana - there is only so much they could do to prepare it. At this point, it'd either work, or not.

And if not, she would surely die.

So, sleep is out of the question. If she only has a few hours left before her time in this life is over, what good would sleep be?

She waits for midnight upon the balcony of the central Cathedral, the very same place she'd watched Hamada duel Markin and Velena not long ago. She'd waited in this very same venue to face down Velena. She wanted witnesses, and in her mind this is the only place she could picture fighting Velena.

Junivere waits beside her, hips leaning against the railing and a palm on Callie's arm that is unwilling to leave her touch, as though if Junivere ever stopped touching her Callie would disappear immediately.

The night falls so wretchedly quiet on Solva. She's so used to the bustle of life and vibrancy of the city, watching from the villa above. There should be the wafting and sizzling scents of peppers and keelt, street cars serving food even into the night. There should be lively music drifting along the breeze. And there should be people milling about.

Instead, Solva holds itself close. The previous day of fighting hadn't only impacted Callie - everyone feels the broken peace. All through the ceasefire of the day, Solva has been as though a tinderbox, ready to erupt into a scorching flame.

Callie can only tell Junivere she loves her so many times before the words begin sticking in her throat, choking down like a bitter medicine. Junivere has stopped responding with words as well, leaning her head into the crook of Callie's neck and nodding along each time she says it.

And when Calvin's fist knocks gently upon the heavy oak door behind them, it's as though Callie again realizes she is about to die. Junivere pulls away sleepily and greets Calvin at the door. The two of them exchange quick whispers, and Junivere slips out from the balcony.

Callie can't bring herself to turn around and look at him.

"Things are all prepared," his voice rumbles, unsure of itself. She hears the quiet jostling of his armor as he shifts his balance nervously. "I've hand-picked the guard for tonight, Wellt has agreed to officiate once more, and the Cathedral is secure for all of us to watch. There's a route into the Eclypsium underneath for us to leave if... if things don't go how we want."

"Thank you, Calvin," she croaks out.

He shifts his balance again. "May... May I stay with you for a bit?"

Callie's laugh chokes into a stifled sob. She nods, and soon finds herself turning to wrap into Calvin's heavy arms. Her cheek is cold against the steel of the breastplate, and the armor pinches and prods all along her torso, but she hardly cares.

"I'm sorry," she tells him. "But I have to-,"

"I understand," he sighs. His arms squeeze a little tighter. "I may not like it, but I understand." A pause, and his voice is tight. "I think it's brave... amongst other things."

"I need you to know it isn't because I don't love you or-,"

"I know." A kiss on top of her head. "I love you, too. It's just one of those impossible things."

She nods against his chest, trying not to mind the buzzing, electrifying feeling of magic brooding inside of her as the moon rises into the night. It won't be a full moon tonight, just a waning crescent in the sky.

"Gods, this isn't what I expected when I was first anointed," she says. "How could this possibly be where we are now?"

Calvin grunts in shared astoundment.

"If... If I don't make it..."

"You will," he insists.

"But if I don't, promise me you'll get to safety."

And her precious Knight-Commander is quiet. His breath rises slowly against her chest, arms pulling a little tighter around her shoulders.

"Promise me," she repeats.

Another pause. "Someone will need to keep the city together in that event. I can't turn away from that duty."

Callie sighs, fingers gripping tighter, clinging on like she could hold everything at bay. But she understands the unrelenting duty, just as he must understand her refusal to run. A cindering pit in her stomach, heavy and tumultuous, toils under the blossoming anxieties she's trying to ignore.

"Will you stay with me?" She asks. "Until it's time?"

"I wouldn't dream of leaving."

- - -

There's something horrifically unnerving about standing alone in the central plaza, surrounded by a crowd afraid of making noise like it would mean death. It feels forbidden for her to stand here, like this, unprotected and perceived.

Her gaze floats between the massive, repaired statue of Suul at its center, and the waning crescent of Yala above, as though looking were prayer. Despite the mantric repetitions of I will protect you fading in and out of her mind, Callie is distinctly aware that it is not faith which has carried her into this moment, but fury.

Her armor is the stubbornness inside of herself, that naive belief that power means nothing in the grand scheme of life, and that life could simply be love and peace and joy and all things wonderful. How sorely she's grown to hate Magister Velena for her amassing of power.

Her shield is the conviction she carries as adopted weight. She had been an outsider to Solva, a complete nothing amongst its spiraling streets and comforting walls. She had cared for nothing but survival and irrelevance - and now, irrelevance is impossible. Survival, even more dubious. In their place, festering as a sore, is the immovable compulsion within her.

She finds herself running fingers over the scars on her forearms and replaying all the possible defensive strategies she'd learned through rote memorization with Hamada and Baris. Callie can hardly believe she'd been in the position to try and invent Arcana, such that two magisters nearly believed her insane. Perhaps they still do. And yet.

Something in the air pressure alerts Callie. Perhaps it's a grave hush over the crowd. Perhaps it's magic rippling through the air like a sheet in the wind. Perhaps it's intuition.

Velena has arrived.

The Magister emerges from the night as though born from it. She simply comes into form across the far end of the courtyard, striding forth like she'd been there the whole time.

And she's smiling a warm and comfortable smile, as though greeting a cherished friend.

The noise ward is around Callie before she can even detect Velena casting it.

"Devotia Callana, how unexpected it was to receive your letter," she says. "In so few iterations of my predictions did I suspect you'd develop a backbone."

Callie refuses to take the bait, remaining silent and fixed. The cool air wraps around her exposed arms, and for a moment she regrets the decision to wear the shimmering white dress which had formed her uniform as Devotia. But there was a symbolism in it she felt was important, and it showed off her scars - she wanted Solva to see she'd been hurt.

Instead, Callie's eyes take in Velena's attire with a frantic urgency in her mind. Along with her classic Magister's robes, Velena sports a large, tan medallion, nearly the circumference of her fist. Threadstone.

Her mind races, scouring through the dozens of scenarios Hamada drilled her on. Velena would need to be compensating for the absence of the sun, and would be relying on other tactics to form her power - using threadstone is one of her best options.

She's halfways through the best response strategies to a threadstone amulet when she recalls Baris' reminder not to read her hastily. Callie forces herself to breathe. The amulet could be a distraction. She begins considering the variety of other potential tactics Velena could draw upon.

A maintained spell, similar to the cold flash Hamada had used against Markin. Velena could have cast something upon herself which she's now concealing under her robes, and maintained that spell throughout the day on threadstone to unleash now.

A threaded scroll, or tapestry, tucked into her robes. It wouldn't be able to store quite as much power as threadstone, but Velena hardly needs much to overpower Callie.

Callie doesn't even notice when she begins worrying her foot against the stone underfoot. Velena's eyes flick down to the anxious tell, and she smirks.

"I will still accept surrender, Callana," she says cooly. "You needn't die when I will graciously allow you to leave my city intact. You'd still leave in respect - brave enough to challenge a Magister but smart enough not to die against one."

Callie takes the bait. "Your city?"

"Soon."

"You'll be hated if you kill me."

"I simply do not agree."

At this, Callie feels a chill descend down her spine, unnervingly aware of the stakes. There will be no option for surrender once the duel commences.

"I trusted you to guide me on my first days." Callie shuffles in place, recalling her innocence, her fragility those early weeks. "If I am to die, you owe it to me to tell me why."

"Do I?"

"Consider it a final request."

Velena grins, incisive and amused. A light tilt of her head to the side, and she shrugs. "Have you considered what Solva might be if we accepted what we have?"

"A city of peace. Freedom. Kindness."

"How characteristic of you," Velena laughs. "Suul is worshiped in a great many places, all loosely affiliated with Solva as her home. And she is powerful in this way. Have you considered what her power might look like if all of those places were turned to a singular purpose and banner?"

"An empire?"

"Grand Imperium," she chides. "Consider what her Arcana might be like with such coordination. Think of what could be accomplished."

Callie furrows her brow. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Quite some time. Recall in your early days where I had you building quite a few favors for me amongst some useful figures. A blessing from a Devotia, organized by their new favorite Magister - it makes people quite willing to work with me."

And the puzzle arranges for Callie: why Velena wished to use her; why she was so insistent Callie be kept under lock and key. It was all building to a greater purpose - all pushing towards the engines of war. Yala's anointing then made Callie uncontrollable, Velena could shape Callie's perspective on Suul, direct her attention. But she was just as in the dark about Yala, just as unsure of what this could mean.

Callie understands better how the city had split in two. Velena has been amassing support in the shadows for years. Panic wells in her chest as she then considers that she's about to lose the protection of conversation and have to truly face her down.

Until, Velena speaks again. Callie hardly hears her words, swept away by a tiny glimpse - a raised arm from Velena, gesturing for Callie to walk away and surrender, reveals a tiny flash of gold upon her arm.

The threadstone is a distraction - Velena has copied Hamada and threaded tattoos on her arm.

Confidence wells in her chest, unbegot by anything tangible. Something inside of Callie settles, grabs hold of the sight and suddenly calms her trembling form.

They'd drilled dozens of possible openings and strategies, endless ways Velena could approach the duel. Most revolved around the assumption Velena would wish to end the fight quickly. The longer it draws on, the more graphic the violence against Callie would likely become - and the more people would be able to sympathize with Callie's plight. A long fight between Hamada and Velena is one thing. It's a spectacle amongst equals. But a Magister thrashing a novice for any duration of time would appear horrific.

Or so the assumption went.

But Hamada invented threaded tattoos. She knew the full bounds of what they were capable of. Because they have to sit within the skin, they can only contain so much power - lest they begin causing damage. There's not enough power in them to end a fight quickly.

Velena was going to draw it out, make it humiliating and painful.

In a quick fight, Callie could survive or die in an instant. It all depends on her ability to rapidly respond to Velena, to guess the correct defense and not die immediately. She couldn't hope to match a fierce burst of Velena's power except by perfect parry.

But a drawn out fight could favor her. Velena has never been blessed. She can't use the Yalani Arcana - she could only have so many threadbeams stored up.

So, with an unearned confidence, Callie finds herself saying, "The goddess will protect me."

And Velena replies, "Then let her try. Goodbye, Callana."

- - -

A duel is won or lost in its first seconds. Callie decides not to think about winning or losing, but instead on how to survive for as long as possible.

When Wellt calls for the start, everything in Callie's mind goes quiet - that monstrous silence of expectation.

Velena strikes first. Callie finds herself smiling in spite of it.