There was a time, aeons ago, when the High Mages were protectors of the realm. When the Light and the Void were two sides of the same coin. There was a time when mankind had bigger things to worry about than killing each other.

My people were once a proud race of mages. Yet this arrogance was exactly why we were so grossly underprepared for the resilience of the Light. It was why our grand cities had been reduced to crumbling ashes.

I could not say what caused the strife, recorded history has always been skewed. But I did know, with every fibre of my being, that noblemen—politicians, whether from the Light or the Void, had never cared for the dying villagers. They didn't care that every second I had spent away from the council, I was in the small towns and villages. They would rather draft me like they drafted all the children.

So when I marched down the long silver halls, adorned with dark candelabras and plush black rugs, I knew exactly what I was expecting. I knew that once I got to the extravagant throne room, once I got to the immoderate silver chair adorned with opals and obsidians I would find Merikh on it. Her long, black dress glimmered with just as many unnecessary gemstones as it trailed the floor.

"Merikh," I greeted with a short, hasty curtsy, before I continued my march towards her throne, "I have a request."

The woman pursed her lips as her eyes travelled down my much shorter black robes. Unlike Merikh, my robes dangled just above the ankles, and instead of being adorned with gems, they were covered in dust, soot and potentially, blood. Her sights finally settled on my bare feet for a moment too long, her expression switching to one of disgust.

Merikh would have me call her the High Lord of the Void or something just as absurd, arrive in ridiculous garments and praise her for a few minutes first. But I had little time for formalities.

People were dying.

"Please tell me that a foul creature ate your boots," she finally said, still eyeing my feet as she scrunched her nose in disdain.

"My ... boots?" I looked down at my feet, caked in dirt and dried leaves, and then let out a huff, "My Lord, children are dying!" I marched on, smearing her black rug with brown footprints, "I fail to see how my attire bears more importance!"

Merikh continued scrunching her nose for a minute longer before she faced me, her sharp features imbued with exhaustion. "We are in an age of war," she said holding her head high, her long, black hair shimmering like silk, "death is not uncommon during war."

I had to stop for a moment. Compose myself with a deep breath lest I exploded at the High Lord of the Void. I was a mage after all, which meant my anger was always quite literally explosive. And that wasn't even the worst part of my abilities.

For generations, my family had given birth to mages that could control the elements without magic crystals. They could scorch the plains with nothing but sheer will. Freeze the land solid on a hot summer day. They were as revered as they were feared. My ancestry was the reason the Void would have me take arms.

But not me. I had been born with an entirely different ability. Unlike my forefathers, my anger didn't take down towers, they wrought an entirely different havoc.

The death of magic.

If I took arms like Merikh constantly insisted, I could end this war in a day. And the Void would be the new masters. The new tyrants. Children of the Light would be dying instead. War was such a complicated monster. It was best that I stayed away from it.

My place was with my people.

"Soldiers die," I finally agreed, my jaw clenched. And despite the lack of explosions, I could feel the sting in my eye, I could see the air around me shimmering like water. "Children are not soldiers." I shut my eyes to take another deep breath, calm myself before I spoke again, "You know perfectly well where I stand on children taking arms. Where I will always stand." I may have been half her age, but my ancestry was not the only reason I was the Twentieth Witch of the Void.

Mirekh continued scrutinising me in silence, her face as wrinkle-free as I had always witnessed it to be. The younger mages used to tell me that Mirekh resorted to magic to keep herself looking young. Though I never cared for such gossip.

I opened my eyes once again, breathing did not seem to be working, my rage, and subsequently, the shimmering had only increased, "I am not here to discuss the status of this pointless bloodshed," I continued through gritted teeth. "I am here to make a request—"

"No."

I was taken aback for a moment. Yet Merikh sat as composed as ever, with one leg over the other, eyeing me warily.

"I-I never even said what it was," I sputtered, far more surprised at her bluntness than her refusal.

"I know what it is." Merikh was not making eye contact with me, she seemed far more interested in her long nails, "You wish to travel to Etherea to get some damned water." She finally looked up at me, her gaze piercing into my soul, "No," she said simply, "I will not send my most powerful mage into the heart of the Light to die."

My eyes began to sting again as if I had been forcing myself awake after an exhausting night. But that's not what this was. It was my body preparing to rip the magic from its roots, to erase it, "My Lord, children are dying!" The air around me was no longer just shimmering, it was humming, trembling with every breath I took, "The Fountain of Divinity is not superstition, it is magic! And it is the only option I have left to save the children! Children that you have no qualms sending to their deaths!"

The ground beneath me cracked before I could calm myself. I heard the grinding 'trriiing' of metal scraping metal as a dozen guards in black armour surrounded me. Their black, misty swords drawn, all poised at my neck.

Merikh wasn't as disturbed as her guards, however. There was no fear as the woman stood up, nostrils flared and made her way to me, her ridiculous dress training behind her. The High Lord of the Void shoved her guards aside before stopping inches from my face, towering over me, her eyes blazing. "Do not threaten me, child!" she spat, "You do not get the moral high ground in this war!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the black-armoured knights exchanging glances. I didn't look away from Merikh, though. She was not going to intimidate me into submission, not today.

"I wouldn't have to send children at all if you took your place in this bloodshed!" She poked a finger in my ribs, forcing me back. The ground seemed to crack with every step I took, but I was too busy glaring at Merikh to notice it. "You would have me send no one?" she continued, jabbing a finger with every question, "You would have them march into our homes and butcher us instead? Rape us?"

I opened my mouth to argue again, "You assume—"

"I know!" she shrieked, and the gemstones on her long, black dress began to glow, "I have been the High Lord longer than you have graced this world with your callow optimism!" Merikh gave me a final look of contempt before striding back to her glimmering throne.

For a moment, I was left staring at her. The accusation stung far more than my eyes did, "I am not naive!" I finally hissed, "I am not naive for despising the use of children in war!" I swallowed, there was no point holding the anger in now, "What happens when all the younglings are dead?" I demanded, "You would send babes? Give them a blade as soon as they learn to sit?"

Merikh's eyes narrowed once more, "Do not mock me, child!"

"How many more must die before you see that your decisions are only hurting the Void?"

Another 'CRACK!' and the black, misty blades wielded by the armoured guards vanished into nothingness. My eyes were watering now, though I was well aware it was not tears they were shedding. The guards on the other hand exchanged glances again, and turned to Merikh, holding nothing but empty hilts.

Merikh raised an eyebrow, seemingly disregarding everyone in the room except me, "My decisions?" She laughed. It was a long, deep sound that seemed to ridicule my statement, my anger, "Alright child," she finally said, "if you wish to travel to Etherea, I have one condition."

I knew Merikh far too well to assume this was good news.

She leaned forward, and the opals on the throne began to shimmer, "You will swear an oath on your life," the High Lord said, "that once you take that water, you will bring the death of magic to the Light."

"What?!"

"The Light or the Void," Merikh said simply, her gaze returning to her nails, "the decision will be yours."

(1573 words)
Total Word Count: 3,117

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Woohoo! 2000-word benchmark conquered!! I don't know how you all write so quickly. I'm struggling to find time between work and chores and my family. I planned to finish 1,000 words a day but I can barely manage 500.

Anyhow, lots of love to everyone reading! You people rock!