Newt-Ella Doe-Knott

As I lay, still, in my rest, I feel each and every breath. Rise and fall, up and down, none and all, smile and frown. The world blurs, the ground spins, and my consciousness falls into what must be a dream; for if it is reality, then life as I know it has lost all sense. This is entirely possible, of course – some would even say likely, though my optimism prevents me from doing so – but I cannot yet consider that. I will not consider it.

I am a stream. Strange, I know. I still don't quite understand what that means, but there's no denying it. I can feel myself flowing endlessly – or what feels like it, anyway – far beyond the reach of my own body. It's a curious feeling, really; somewhere between a stretch and a tickle, but a mixture of the two as well. It doesn't quite hurt, but there's a pulling sensation all over my body. Despite this, however, I feel at perfect ease. Calmer than I've ever been. Whatever magic this is, I hope it never stops.

Around me, beauty lies everywhere. The trees that tower on either side of me glisten in the sunlight. Creatures hop between them every now and then, appearing and disappearing within the blink of an eye. Not a cloud floats in the air; the sky flashes the purest of blues, in a way that I've never seen. It could be heaven – it might be. I have never seen nature look so pure, so undisturbed. Is this what it's supposed to be? Even when I visited Selesnya, the world never seemed this pure. Can I stay here forever? I hope so. I can picture it. Hours lying in the sun, flowing without restraint, just being. Uninterrupted. Free.

I flinch as a stone falls into me, tearing through my surface. I've felt cuts before, but this isn't the same; this feels more like being stabbed with the tip of a knife, pushing through my skin until it finally gives in. Normally, I might grit my teeth, or let out a hiss, but I have no mouth. I am nothing but my flow. So, instead, I just endure and wait for the pain to go away, but it doesn't. It changes. Rather than a piercing, the stone feels more like an obstruction; like a sore throat that refuses to heal, and which lets out a sting every time I flow over it. Calm down, Newt. It'll pass eventually.

But what if it doesn't?

A second stone pierces through, slightly larger than the other. A rock, next, maybe the size of a fist. They begin to fall from the skies, growing greater and greater with every moment. What did I do to deserve this? As rock after rock tears through me, pounding through my skin and doubling me over forwards, backwards, sideways – winding me around at random, really – I want to scream. As they clutter my body and slow my flow, I want to cry. Every moment, once relaxing, becomes strenuous and painful. Still, they fall, one after another, breaking me, blocking me. I wish my mind would go black, but I stay all-too awake. When will this end?

It is only when a boulder the height of a large dog rips through me that a splash lands on the shores on both sides of me. The grasses wither away and die as my water strikes them; the flowers between them crumble to ashes. Still, the boulders continue, until I realize that they have filled me up. Where the first stone had fallen, a wall has arisen, blocking my flow altogether. I smash and slam against it, but I cannot get through. It feels as though I can't breathe, but not quite; I don't think I could die from this. Eventually, my body would grow accustomed to its shortened span, and my flow will shrink to a new normal. But, until then, the pain feels like it's too much to bear.

It isn't until I hear a crack echo from the first boulder that I realize what my fate holds. That I realize what will happen if the wall cracks. My flow has grown stronger and stronger with my pushes, and, once I have cracked my obstacle, it will be too strong to contain. I look over to my shores, once beautiful, and now the grave of what the world could have been, had I not corroded it. Suddenly, the pain that comes from holding my breath is not caused by the wall, but by my own will, stopping myself from going any further. I can't do this. All I'll bring is destruction. That can't be who I am.

But it is.

Eventually, try as I might to stop it, my tide pierces the wall, and I begin to stretch in every direction. I hit the trees next to me, the creatures hopping between them, and even splash up to the sky. The trees crash down into the withering earth. The creatures evaporate under my force. The sky turns to grey. And suddenly, I find myself surrounding by chaos and destruction and death, and I have nobody to blame but myself. I didn't try hard enough. I let myself do this. Please, I beg. Let another boulder fall. I can't take the pain. Maybe the nature will rebuild itself, if I give it time.

Sure enough, another stone begins to fall. And sure enough, piece by piece, the world comes together once more. The cycle, after all, will always begin again.

My eyes flicker open. It's happening again, isn't it? Slowly, I can feel my consciousness slip away. I grit my teeth and hold on tight, but even then I can feel it slide out of my grasp. That, reader, is when I realize something. I don't want to go back. Please, don't let me go

Hi there, reader! My name is Newt-Ella Doe-Knott, and do I have a story for you!

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Mikaela Gavreel

"I'd like to speak to Aurelia."

The angels by the door exchange a glance, one raising an eyebrow in question while the other gives a light shrug. Their eyes meet and a few words of silent conversation pass between them before the former turns her gaze back on me. "How urgent is it?" she inquires. "We can make a few arrangements."

I dip my head with an obligatory smile. Knowing Aurelia's right-hand women, Salome and Venus are probably already frowning over her tight schedule. With an intake of breath through my teeth, I say, "Quite."

"Quite? Oh dear."

I give a nervous laugh. "It's about the running for Guildpact."

"The running for Guild— Oh." As if in revelation, she looks at Venus, then back at me. "Mikaela." Before I can make a sound, she leans forward and pulls me into a tight, warm hug. Feathers tickle my nose as the warmth of sunlight fills me to the brim and overflows. "Welcome home to our Guildpact representative. I should've recognised you."

I chuckle, the sound strained. "The one and only."

"The baby's still cranky, I see."

I averted my gaze, dropping it to my feet. In response to Elijah's remark, my strides lengthened, pushing me a few steps ahead of him. I felt his lurking presence over my shoulder just paces behind. If spending a night in Simic quarters wasn't enough to put my nerves on edge, this was more than doing the trick.

He caught up in no time with a little chuckle. "I suppose that makes sense," he mused, circling his thumb over a sapphire ring. "She's lost her babysitter, after all."

I felt a pinprick in my chest, almost rancid. The terrors of the angel's death swam to the surface as his words sunk into the blue. Reaching my door, I pulled to a stop before it and turned around to face him. A little sigh escaped me as I tried to turn my thoughts into a sentence. The words stuck in a throat too parched to make a sound. Eventually, I settled on the simplest phrase, leaving no space for retaliation: "Goodnight, Elijah. I'll see you tomorrow."

My hand slid over the knob, cold to the touch as I turned it, and I slipped into the room I once shared with Lavina.

Representative. The word in its singular form rings clear like a certain distinct memory. There were things in that scene so horrible I saw them with more clarity than nightmares. Lying with eyes wide open, I tried to fall asleep, instead finding myself pulled into a tide of listless rest. In comparison, the strain of the past week was a dream. It was only when the nightmare shook me awake that I found myself alone.

"Come in."

Sunhome's biggest hall welcomes me as I step through its doors. Large as the space is and high as its ceilings are, Aurelia's presence is greater still. She sits at the far end, illuminated by an archangel's glow and a pair of wings alight with vivid detail. Upon seeing me she stands, folding them behind her as she crosses the room.

On instinct, I drop into my lowest bow. "Guildmaster Aurelia."

She greets me with the familiar leading voice of the assembly. "Mikaela." Despite having conversed with her before, the way her tone drops command but retains power when speaking in person never fails to catch me off guard. "Rest day, I assume."

"Yes. A break in schedule. We leave Simic tomorrow morning."

She pauses in front of me, placing a finger under my chin and pulling my eyes up to meet hers. "Let's take a look at you." Her eyes, the same shade as my own but far more striking, carry so much strength that I have to avert my gaze. As her eyes fill with concern, it occurs to me that I'm in worse shape than I could hope for. Armour, battered. Hair tangled. My sheath is an exoskeleton crying for a lost friend. Mikaela Gavreel is in trouble yet again, and not even Aurelia can help her this time. The archangel hums lowly. "You've seen better days." A firm hand rests on my shoulder. "It appears you have something important to share."

It feels like defiance when I lift my chin and push my shoulders back in the slightest. As things go in Boros, definition begins with the posture. I try to keep the same confidence in my voice. "I'm here to pull out of the running."

Eerily exact to the scene I played out in my head, Aurelia's reaction is a pause. As if she's still listening. Waiting for my speech to continue despite us both knowing I've said my piece. Then her lips twist into a smile, this move a little unexpected, her expression all but amused. "After coming this far?"

I brace myself for a chiding, affirming this with a quiet "Yes." It appears word doesn't travel as fast as I expected.

"We sent the two of you to Selesnya. One of you..." She trails off, letting the taboo speak for itself. "And the other," she continues, "came home alive and well."

"I see that, Guildmaster—"

"But despite her success, the latter finds herself unfit to stay in the running for Guildpact.."

My insides shrivel. "Things...have happened," I supply weakly.

She shakes her head. "Make me understand. You've completed all their trials. You earned your standing. What's making you revoke it?"

When I looked up, our eyes met. I snapped my head down and ducked past his slim figure, shying away as he got closer. As I headed down the hallway, I angled my shoulders towards the wall, keeping my back in his face.

He found a way to slide in anyhow, walking in step right next to me. "Did the baby sleep good?" he asked.

I shot a microscopic glare to the left. "I'm not in the mood for banter."

There was a pause in the footsteps, and then the rhythm picked up at a quicker pace. Elijah's voice came out strained. "Okay—"

There was a difference in his approach, as if he too had witnessed a game-changer that either of us had yet to figure out. Still, I was nearly running from his long strides in irrational panic, the need to leave stronger than it was before.

I felt an arm round my shoulder. "Okay, kid." It steered me to a stop. Elijah sighed, placing a hand atop my head. "I promise you I didn't kill Lavina. Alright? I'm not joking now."

My chest writhed, struggling with its next breath. "No." I shrugged him off more violently than I meant to. "No. I did."

Too scared to hear a reply, I broke into a run, throwing the knowledge behind me.

"It isn't about what I haven't done. It's more about what I have."

"Tell me about it."

I swallow, but by now, I'm past the point of fear. "If even stealing is punishable by death in Boros, I shouldn't be breathing." I came with the plan to confess, and now it tumbles out of my mouth like the rapids. "I've broken the code, more than once, on varying levels. It's changing me in ways that need to be stopped. I'm not what the Guildpact should be. The Guildpact embodies control, and I don't have any."

The archangel's eyes go a little harder, posture stiffer. "How grave was it?"

"Lavina's death. I caused it." She doesn't respond, so I continue. "I didn't even have a motive. It was—anger. She'd done absolutely nothing. It was that same streak of violence that surfaces every time something so much as lights a spark—"

"It wasn't how she died." Aurelia frowns, turning away to pace in deep thought. "There were reports sent from Simic. Scorch marks made by a high burst of electricity no one in Boros could've caused. It went in one hand and out the other. What is it that you think happened?"

The memory resurfaces, flickering at the edges of my vision. "F—fire. Both hands. Burn marks."

Aurelia's face darkens. A look of indignation crosses her features like a cloud obscuring the sun. "They're using it against you."

"They—" My mind spins. "Using what?" The heat in my hands as they burned and the terror of being unable to undo it was unshakable.

"I'll speak to Allard Sharikov myself to get a better understanding of what's happening here. If the Legion discovers any form of foul play, there'll be no hesitation in obliterating the source."

I turn away, my next breath shaking on the way in. For a second, I wish all traces of stubbornness could leave and that believing what I can't see is as simple as it sounds. Closing my eyes, I see a spark that lights a fire as the scene plays itself over in my head. In another, a man lies still on the ground, scars encircling his neck.

I let out sigh, frustrated, and allow vision to bring me back into the present. A dull ache throbs in my chest, woundless but there nonetheless. "Why do I kill everything I touch?"

Aurelia turns back around, smiling wryly as she does. "Because you could save anything if you tried."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shark Finn

Yes, I'm an experiment.

No, it's morally wrong to kill my sibling - or at least, a person genetically related to me in some way.

These two things keep going around and around in my head. I can't seem to forget them. This is the closest I've ever gotten to breaking down – after the truth about my past has been revealed. I've always wanted to know more about who I am, just not in the way I had been told.

The truth has taken away what's left of the motivation in me, if any at all. I feel empty, as if the life within doesn't belong to me. Most candidates have gone ahead without me, while others are just wandering about aimlessly through the forest. They haven't given us the next set of instructions yet so instead of wasting my energy, I decide to plop myself onto a nearby rock to sulk about life.

Then is when I feel it, so subtle at first until it causes me to doubt my instincts. A frown flits across my face and I still, listening to the sounds of the underground forest. Not that there's much to hear anyway – just some occasional birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

I almost start to dismiss it when I feel it again. This time, more of a gentle stirring than a disturbance like the last. I go completely still for a moment, my senses perked. Almost immediately, I sense withdrawal.

I narrow my eyes and focus them on a bird flitting from tree to tree. What a beautiful creature; its wings spread out as it follows the wind with not a care in the world. They carry its tiny body –

The walls around my mind go up, but a fraction of a second too late. The sliver of darkness slips through my defences before I can seal it. I pursue its trail, but the person entering is obviously well-trained. He – no, she - slips through the cracks and corners of my mind, almost as if she knows it better than I do.

The deeper she ventures, the more I sink into unconsciousness and the more information she takes from me. At the last moment, I give up, pulling myself out of my mind before I pass out. She has reached the deepest layer and there is no way to stop her. I can't even detect her anymore in my mind.

I wait in anticipation for her to start doing something, planning to attack the moment she starts making her way out. But of course, she would probably know that already since she is practically in my mind now.

I sit up, every muscle in my body tense and every sense perked up. I scan the forested area, hoping to spot the person who has slipped into my mind, but I find nothing out of the ordinary. Either she can camouflage extremely well, or my eyesight is just that bad.

I don't know if it is fortunate or not, but I don't have to wait long before the sliver of darkness begins to be more noticeable. Slowly, it begins to consume my entire mind, filling up all the empty spaces it slipped through before. My vision blurs as I try to push it out, squeezing the spaces and hoping it will ooze out. Tears fill my eyes as my head starts to pound. I just made it worse. I'm making myself more vulnerable by weakening my mind. But in my desperation and panic, I continue.

Only when a needle-like pain slices through my skull do I realise that it is time to stop. I have forgotten all my telepathy lessons. I keep thinking that this substance taking over my mind is a liquid, but I now recall how experts can enter a mind in the form of a gas. That seems to be exactly what my attacker is doing, which would explain her speed and the ability to slip through the smallest of cracks in my mind.

I stop pushing and clutch at my head, the pain becoming unbearable.

"Shark." The world around me dims. A voice floats through my mind, bouncing off its walls and echoing into the void as a face fades into view. Her eyes are sea-green and her skin has a blueish tinge to it. Her turquoise hair cascades down her shoulders. She looks young, but old enough to be my...

"Mom?" I whisper, the word sounding foreign coming from my mouth, yet it has a sweet ring to it. My heart leaps into my throat when I recognise who I'm staring at. I repeat that word, testing it out once again on my tongue. Her eyes lock with mine and she maintains eye contact for a long moment before she realises who I am. Almost guilty, she quickly turns away.

When she faces me again, it is to deny her knowledge of my identity.

"I'm your son!" I exclaim.

"I... I never had a son," she whispers, almost regretfully. The words slam into me forcefully, almost stealing the breath away from me. The world spins around me, her words echoing in my head.

It gradually slows down to a stop and I see a handsome young merman with a square-cut jaw in my mother's place. His eyes are icy-grey, their depths filled with so much hurt and pain that reveal his true age. His hair, a beautiful colour of cerulean blue, is swept to the side. The dorsal fin on his back stands out the most, which is probably where I got it from.

"Are you – "

Before I can even finish my sentence, he charges forward and pins me to the wall behind, trapping me in a chokehold. "You ruined us," he snarls. "Why did you even come into the world?" He pulls back his fist, but before it can collide with my nose, I am whirled into another place.

In front of me stands a young human adult in his twenties with flaming red hair and freckles. He's rather small for his age; only a few inches taller than me. He backs away when he catches sight of me, repulsed.

"So they used my DNA to create a freak like you. Couldn't they have done any better? You look like a monster."

His words ring in my head. A tear slides down my cheek.

Freak. Monster.

I'm no better than the boy in the basement, am I? We're basically the same. Unwanted and unloved. A monster and a freak. Trash.

As the last of my dreams fade away, I awake to find myself on the same rock with the Dimir signet beside me. I clutch it in my hand, the emotions raging within tempting me to rip the signet apart. To break it, just like how they broke me. They brought back the memories I never wanted to think of again, including the one that I've been trying to forget for weeks. My heart sinks with the guilt that's weighing it down.

Why couldn't I have resisted the temptation from the start when I already knew she was going to dump me? I just had to feel those soft, pink lips against my own and take pleasure in her touch when I knew it would only bring guilt. I lied to the only one who loved me earnestly.

The girl with the most beautiful eyes is right there. She makes my heart ache with regret. I wonder if she's thinking about me. I can't keep living with the guilt inside me. I need her love. I need her touch. I need her to keep me alive.

Gathering up my courage, I get up from the rock and walk towards her. I stop a distance away from her, then clear my throat to get her attention. I know she's not as deaf as those scientists in Simic, but it still doesn't stop me from grinning when she turns. At least she's responding to me.

"Look, I... I'm sorry. I was avoiding you because I was afraid you'd find out that..." The truth tumbles out of my mouth, words morphing together as I stumble through every sentence. I can feel my face heating up and I know it must be the almost the same shade as my hair now.

"I'm sorry, Newt, and I want you to know that even if you don't forgive me, I love you still." The horrified look on her face crushes my heart. I knew it. Why had I even bothered trying? She wouldn't forgive me for doing such a thing. It's unforgivable, just like how I'd probably never forgive myself for it either. I look down at the floor, bracing myself for the angry blow of her words.

"What are you talking about? I'm sorry, but you must have gotten me mixed up with someone else. I only love – " She never got to finish her sentence. She freezes, her eyes going wide.

"My head; something's in my head – GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!" she screams, clutching my arm tightly. I close my eyes and push into her mind, easily breaking through its soft, bouncy walls. I had forgotten how vulnerable a human's mind could be. Even though she has telepathic powers of some sort, her defences can easily be broken down, especially by trained mind mages.

I shoot through the maze of her mind, being careful to leave a trail of my own so that I'll be able to get out. I follow the dark splotch at lightning speed, trying not to pry into her memories. However, that is nearly impossible, with the sliver of darkness seeming determined to break into her memories. I catch a glimpse of a blonde-haired boy, which most of Newt's memories seem to revolve around.

It is not until I reach the deepest pit of her memories do I learn of his name and that I do not exist at all in them. When her mind starts to dim and the walls start to cave in. When the maze becomes almost too deep to get out of. If I had withdrawn a millisecond later, I would have fallen into her abyss of unconsciousness, unable to see the light of the world ever again.

My eyes fly open just in time to see Newt's roll to the back of her head, her body slumping forward. "I'm sorry Newt," I whisper again, clenching the Dimir signet in my hand. They played with my mind, like they're doing with hers now. I know that whatever she remembers when she awakes will not be true and I'll be here to affirm it. I won't let her humiliate herself like what I have done – believing that she loved me when we had never spoken to each other before in reality.

She must think that I'm crazy, akin to what people normally stereotype Simic to be. I gaze at her sorrowfully, resisting the urge to run my hands through her blonde, silky hair. The feelings of guilt and attraction are still so real within me, just that I can distinguish it from reality now. I don't know if I can ever look at Newt properly again and see a girl I've never had a past with. That's how badly they warped my mind.

I mutter a silent prayer to the heavens that if Pete is watching this or somehow gets to know of my encounter with Newt, he won't hold a grudge against me.

I turn away, my heart aching with bitterness. I still love Newt, just that it isn't real. I never thought such a thing would be possible. Clenching the Dimir signet for the second time that day, I wish that I could satisfy myself by watching it fall apart in my hands, like how they're probably watching me break in theirs. 

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Halcyon Stirling

Silver tears embedded in blue eyes, Halcyon shot out of bed. A sudden sense of disorientation swept over him, his knees promptly buckling under the weight of his body. He fell back onto the bed with a light thud, a sharp pain ringing through his head.

A glimmer of black caught his eyes. It was a signet, a new one in the collection he had gotten so far. The dimir signet... How had he gotten it?

Then suddenly, like a door being locked, like a candlelight blown out in complete darkness, Halcyon remembered.

A single drop of blood fell onto his clean metal blade.

A scream, silent but deafening all the same, piercing through the air.

Halcyon remembered.

The final painfully shaky breath.

The end of it all.

Halcyon opened his eyes, but he found himself right back there. Right back to that moment he'd been pressing that forsaken blade to the woman's neck. He felt like he was going to pass out from nausea, but his hands kept on pressing and crimson kept on flowing. He felt as though his entire body was shaking, but the hand holding the knife was steady and obviously confident.

It was revolting but he couldn't close his eyes.