The Beginning Ch. 32: Epilogue

"Explain," I snapped, looking at Ronald intensely.

"It's easier if I show you," he said with a sigh, indicating for me to follow him.

Fiona went with us, the Healer moving to see if anybody else needed his services. The beach was littered with bodies, and not all of them were Darks.

"I need some real answers, Ronald," I stated, stopping by the body of a Dark who wore Armor from the Indian Academy that dated back to the fourteen-hundreds.

"Best I can tell," he explained, "it's a disguising spell of some sort. They used it to make themselves look like Wielders from within our ranks."

"So, Byrav--"

"Was Nicolas all along, yes. We just don't know for how long."

"Fifteen years," I answered, a ball of revulsion and guilt forming in my gut. "That's when his behaviour started to change. I knew something wasn't right."

"Vaish, you can't--"

"You said you had something to show me?"

He sighed and led the way towards where a sword was thrust into the ground. The sand around the sword has crystallized into glass, and the blade itself seemed to be humming.

"That's his sword," I confirmed, seeing the name inscribed on it. "Where is he? Did Nicolas get him, too?"

"Do you remember what Atkina was looking for?" Ronald asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"The 'Universal Conduits', as you called them," I responded, "weapons rumored to tap into universal energies. What does that have to do with anything?"

"What made her search hard," he answered, "was that we had no idea what these energies are. Well, she doesn't have to search any longer. Turns out, one of those weapons was in front of us all this time."

"You can't be serious!" I exclaimed, unable to believe what he was saying. "Chris wielded a Universal Conduit?!"

"My working theory is that he had no clue what he had, either. Something today drove him to such an extreme that he managed to activate the Conduit, and tap into the energy of 'Duty'."

"I don't know what all that means," Fiona interjected, "but I did see what happened. Vince speared Chris through the throat, and then that sword began to glow brighter and brighter. Chris healed himself, somehow, and then he began to glow, before exploding."

"Exploding?" I asked, looking at Ronald for confirmation. "So that wave that knocked us out, that was Chris?"

"It killed the Darks, too," Ronald supplied. "But if he exploded because that energy was too much to take..."

"He's alive," I stated. "He better be."

I stepped towards the sword, glass crunching beneath my feet. If it was still connected to this "Duty" energy, maybe it could tell me what had happened to Chris.

"Vaish, don't!" Ronald yelled, but it was too late.

I reached for the sword but was met by a wave of energy that threw me backwards, the sand somewhat cushioning my fall. I staggered to my feet, stunned, brushing sand off me.

"We tried to pull the sword out," Ronald explained, running up to me. "Nobody can get near it."

"Agrayodhin!" a woman I wasn't familiar with called out, before I could respond.

I turned around to see someone waving their arms frantically near what I assumed was the Command Tent. Something about her tone seemed urgent, so I ran over to her, Ronald in tow.

"You should see this," Randal's voice called from inside, so we proceeded into the tent.

There were a number of other Wielders in there, though Randal and Mathias were the only ones I knew personally. Even though we had plenty of room inside the tent, it felt weirdly claustrophobic.

"We're inside a Faraday Cage," Randal explained, as I made my way to the center with Ronald. "He's inside another."

Randal was pointing at a Mundane who had set up a number of devices inside a second Faraday Cage. He was hooked up to a couple of medical machines, which helped me figure out that he was the Mundane that Chris and Fiona had fled Ireland with.

"It's done," the Mundane informed us, holding up a smartphone that had been repurposed into a projector. He pointed it at a clear wall, and I saw that it was tuned into a news broadcast.

BREAKING NEWS: MAGIC REAL?

"Thank you all for joining us," the female newscaster said in greeting. "I'm Nicolette, and we're here today with Nicolas, who claims that he can prove that magic is real. Nicolas, what are you going to do for us today?"

"Do for you?" that sinister voice asked, as the camera panned to Nicolas, who was dressed in a black suit. "Do not misunderstand me, Nicolette, this is no parlor trick. Magic has been a part of human history since a time before history was recorded. Most of you have just been kept in the dark about this. I am here to change that."

"I'm sure you understand our need for proof," Nicolette said, flashing one of those practiced smiles that they all seem to have.

"But naturally," Nicolas responded.

He pulled out a piece of stone Media, showing it to the camera. The camera panned in, and we could clearly read the word "Air" written on it, in plain English.

"What is he playing at?" someone commented, but somebody else hushed them.

"A group of magicians, who call themselves 'Wielders', sought to control magic by placing certain restrictions on it," Nicolas explained, placing the stone on the table in front of him. "They have done so for millennia. One of those restrictions was that magic could only be used in three languages: Ancient Greek, Latin, and Sanskrit. They maintained their hold on magic through the use of Seals, like this one."

He pulled out a metallic disc that made the picture flicker.

"I apologize for the interference this causes," he said, smiling. "Magic and technology do not play too well together."

"That can't be what I think it is," I said, softly, turning to see that Randal and Mathias had similar look of horror etched on their faces.

"A little while ago," Nicolas continued, pulling out a dagger, "forces under my command stormed the strongholds of these Wielders, and liberated a number of artifacts. This dagger, Ananyagati, is one of them.

"It belonged to a noble Wielder who worked as a Healer, but it hides a sinister secret. This simple-looking dagger was forged from metal that was drawn from the same vein as this Seal.

"When the Wielders forged the Lingual Seal eons ago, they thought that they had depleted it completely. A handful of grains escaped their notice, however, and that is how this dagger exists today. Now, watch."

We could do nothing but watch, as he thrust the dagger into the seal, penetrating it. A visible vortex of energy shot out through the seal, the broadcast cutting out as the magic was released.

Nobody said a thing, nobody even breathed, till the broadcast came back on. When the picture was back, the camera was being righted, panning around the remains of the newsroom, which had been utterly decimated. Nicolette was scrambling to make herself presentable again, and only Nicolas was unaffected.

"To anybody watching," Nicolette said, gasping for breath, "I can confirm that what just happened was real. It was not a bomb that went off, but an explosion of energy, nonetheless. Magic is real."

"Magic is now free," Nicolas declared, tossing aside the cracked Seal.

He picked up his stone, the picture flickering again as he powered up his spell. Sheets of paper started to whirl around the newsroom, as the picture continued to flicker. It stabilized again, as he cut his spell off, focusing on a visibly shaken newscaster.

"I understand how overwhelmed you must be feeling, Nicolette," Nicolas said, "so I will not take up more of your time. I merely have one last message to convey.

"There are covert agencies in every government around the world which were duped by the Wielders. For years now, they have been working with the Wielders to hunt down my people. To these agencies, I say: Rejoice! My people, today, have taken down the three strongholds of the Wielders, leaving their forces scattered and broken. I will personally get in touch with the heads of all the countries of the world so that we can together map out the world of tomorrow.

"To the people of the world, I apologize. I apologize for how long it has taken me to break the silence of the Wielders and to show you the truth. I promise that from this moment on, my people and I will work tirelessly to find the two remaining Seals and shatter them, bringing magic back to the world. No longer will you remain mundane. Soon, you too will know true Power!"

He calmly stood up then, unclipping his mic, smiling at the camera, and walking out of the ruined newsroom. The broadcast switched to a logo of the network, with a message apologizing for technical difficulties.

Within the tent, there was only stunned silence.

Then, what he'd said sunk in.

"The Academies!" I exclaimed, turning around to face the Wielders in the tent. "The Darks have overthrown the Academies!"

Chaos erupted as everyone started rushing out, and I couldn't blame them. We might all have trained as warriors, but nothing could have prepared us for a day when the Academies had apparently fallen.

My kids...

"Word from Swati," Ronald said, handing me a comm. "She has the twins and the other children from the Academy, along with over a hundred of our people. There are pockets of other survivors, too. They need you, Agrayodhin."

I nodded, relief flooding my mind. I steeled my resolve, even as the broadcast resumed, with pictures of Randal, Mathias, and myself, and the Deans. A single message underscored the pictures:

WANTED GLOBALLY FOR ACTS OF MAGICAL TERRORISM

In one afternoon, Nicolas had managed to turn the entire world on its head. What yesterday was a certainty, had been knocked to the floor. One of the Seals had been broken. But most importantly, my people needed me.

"Listen up," I said, activating the comm and broadcasting to every Indian Wielder out there. "This is what we're going to do."

The future may no longer be certain, but I would be damned if I wasn't going to fight Nicolas every step of the way.

"Wherever you are, Chris," I thought, "if you're even alive, keep your head down. We'll come for you."

*****

"Where am I?" I rasped, wincing as the light hurt my eyes as I blinked.

"Just rest," a kind voice responded, followed by a cool sensation on my forehead.

"That's nice," I murmured, falling back into unconsciousness.

It was a week later that I was well enough to sit up in my hospital bed. My body was covered with scars that I didn't remember getting, the most brutal of which was over my throat. The old man, who I assumed was my doctor, said that he didn't know how I had survived.

As if summoned by my thinking of him, he walked into the room at that very moment.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, picking up the board that was clipped to the foot of my bed.

"Better," I managed to rasp, my throat hurting with the movement.

"Have you been able to eat or drink?"

I nodded slowly, my head still woozy from the cocktail of drugs that were being pumped into my body through an I.V. tube.

"Have you remembered anything?"

"Name," I responded, figuring that the only word that was tumbling through my mind had to be my name.

"That's amazing!" he exclaimed, looking up at me with surprise. "It means you may remember more as time goes by! What is your name?"

"Dharma."