Young Writers Society

He heard Harry say something from next to him, but he was too focused on Kiera's ghost for the words to really register. His lips quivered as he looked at her. He wanted to hug her so badly, but he was worried she'd disappear the moment he ran over to her.

"I'm sorry," Mage whispered, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. "It's my fault you're here. If you-If you had taken me in, the angels wouldn't have-"

His breath caught in his throat again. He wanted to believe it was her. He really did. But this didn't make sense, and he couldn't keep convincing himself that it was her. Harry's words suddenly clicked in the very back of his mind. This wasn't really Kiera.

The illusion snapped.

There was something else standing there now. It was dark and horrible and not remotely like Kiera. Mage wanted to run or fight, but he couldn't get his legs to move. The memories started coming before he could even process what was going on. He remembered the fire. Infernum. Finding out his parents were dead. It was all coming so fast, and all right on top of each other. Mage felt like his heart was going to split apart from how much it hurt.

The destruction of the Altroyon played in his mind on endless repeat. It was a deadly loop of the worst moment of his life. He could hear his final order to the crew.

"Proceed. The ship can take it. Trust me!"

The timeship sped up, slamming through the barrier separating reality and the outer omegaverse, time stopped flowing, the ships engines instantly cut out. The enchantments on the ship held for a precious few seconds, giving them all false hope and then the unforgiving forces of the land beyond time tore the ship apart, converting it and everything inside it to energy. The crew couldn't even scream. To them it was but a an attosecond. Harry however, could see it all happen painstakingly slowly as ever particle of mass was converted to energy, leaving only him and his two siblings alive in the primordial aether of existence. He remembered thrusting his hand out, trying to salvage someone, anyone...and then the scene shifted.

He was holding a bloodied blade; The Sceptre of Darkness, the fallen form of Pong in front of him. The one and only life he'd ever extinguished. He remembered tears pooling in his eyes as the armies of darkness rejoiced behind him. It was all meant to be the right thing, but then why did he feel so horrible, feel like...

A scream from Stean ripped him out of his shell of memories. It had been so long since he'd set foot in that accursed place and his mental defences had gotten soft. A tear made its way down his eye even as he gritted his teeth and let out a low growl, banishing his memories back to the depths of his mind where they belonged. He regained control of himself and punched the creature in front of him with the full force of an enraged celestial.

The normally intangible creature screeched in pain and went flying backwards into a tree which promptly snapped in half.

Next to him, Stean was clearly trying to snap out of whatever he'd seen. He looked a bit shaken but okay. The scream had probably been an attempt to clear his head.

He looked to the other side and saw Mage. Mage was much worse off. Harry ran to Mage's side.

"Mage, can you hear me?"

He was standing in the alleyway where he had tried to rob Kiera. He had only done it to a few people and had always made sure the rest of their food found its way back to them, but he still felt guilty as she slammed him into the ground. He had only been nine at the time. It hurt because that was their first meeting—he always felt guilty that he had tried to take things from someone he carried about so much now.

Then he was twelve, cowering underneath the floorboards as the angels roamed the house. He could hear them threatening Kiera. They wanted to know where Mage was. They needed to know where Mage was. He had been so so scared. Kiera had said to stay silent, but a whimper had slipped out. One of the angels was close enough to hear it, so Kiera started to insult them. The angels grew angry. Their voices grew louder. And then everything felt so hot and Kiera screamed as her skin burned. The house burned, too, but Mage was safe underneath the floor because demons were better at breathing in smoke than humans ever would be. He kept wishing he had died with her.

Then he was back to when he was just under eight years old, standing in the forge his parents had worked at before they had been called to the front lines of the war with the angels. He liked playing there, even though the neighbors always told he'd get hurt. That was where the soldier found him that day. He had thought they were going to tell him when his parents were finally coming home—it was almost his eighth birthday, and they had told him they weren't going to miss it-

"Mage, can you hear me?"

It was Harry's voice, but Harry wasn't supposed to be there. Mage blinked. The workshop faded away. They were just in the forest now, but Mage couldn't see it well past all of the tears that had started streaming down his face. He could barely make a dark figure underneath a broken tree. He glanced over at Harry.

His lips quivered. He was trying his best not to cry right now, but the memories felt like they had happened just moments ago.

"I-I can hear you," he managed to get out, his answer choking out into a sob.

Harry looked towards Stean. Stean gave him a nod and pointed towards the tree with the fallen figure. Harry gave him a grateful smile and the Notpyrkian walked over to the tree.

Harry turned back towards Mage.

"You know, crying is something that strong people do," said Harry, keeping his voice low and gentle. He pointed at his currently wet eyes. "See. Its perfectly alright if you have to. The memories those things bring up...are just.." Another tear made its way down Harry's face.

His lips quivered again.

Then the tears that he had been trying to hold back—despite his cheeks already being red and wet from crying during the memories—finally fell. He heaved out another sob.

"It felt so real," he whispered. "Like everything was happening again. I-I couldn't do anything, even though I knew something was wrong."

Harry put an arm around Mage's shoulder. "I understand. I don't know what that thing made you remember, but those are never easy, especially for those of us who have had less than ideal pasts. Do you want to sit down?"

Seeing Mage let the tears flow nearly set Harry off, the memories still quite fresh in his mind. It was only countless millennia of practice that let Harry keep his composure and to be strong that Mage had someone to lean on at that point.

Mage leaned into Harry and gave a little nod. It wasn't until he was trying (and failing) to find a place to sit down that he realized how close he was to Harry right now. He could have tried to move away, but having the comfort of another person next to him right now felt...good. It was better than just having his cloak like he had when Kiera-

He froze as the memory resurfaced.

Harry was a little surprised as Mage leaned into him and nodded. Not many people ever looked to him for anything like comfort. He stayed with Mage as Mage tried to find a place to sit down. As they did that, he could feel another wave of guilt from Mage. That wasn't a good sign.

"Mage, this memory, have you ever shared it with anyone?"

"No," he whispered. "I haven't."

He shifted a little, feeling the comfort of Harry's body next to his. He felt so small right now, but being small didn't hurt as much when he knew he had Harry there, too. It hurt thinking about how long it had been since he could rely on someone like that.

He bit back another sob. His tail curled tight around his body underneath his cloak.

"I don't travel with other people," he managed to get out. "I-I can't. Humans hate demons. And even...even if someone didn't, the angels would..."

His voice caught in his throat.

"I see," said Harry, understanding what Mage was trying and failing to say. He had a decent idea of what the memory could be that was currently plaguing Mage, and it was by far not a happy one.

"Would you tell me?" he asked tentatively, very unsure of himself. Harry Hardy was supposed to be the one charging into battle and trash talking dangerous monsters.This was not his area of expertise. "Getting those things out there is the best way to deal with it."

Mage took a deep, shaky breath.

It had been so long since he had last shared something like this. It had been months before he had felt comfortable enough around Kiera to share what had happened with his parents. He hadn't even known Harry for half that time.

But after keeping pushing those memories away and suddenly being faced with them again, Mage doubted he could go back to ignoring what hurt. He had to share it. If he didn't, he would break.

He gave a tiny nod.

"I don't have parents," he said, his voice tiny. He felt tiny, too. "They died years ago. When they died, I...left. I ran away. I ended up in Medium with the humans."

He stared down at his lap.

"...I was only nine," he whispered. "I couldn't do a lot. I-I tried scaring people to get their food, but then Kiera found me. She knew more about demons than other humans did. She...she was..."

He gripped his pant legs, fingers digging into the cloth and the skin underneath.

"...She was like a mom," he said.

He took another shaky breath.

"She hid me for awhile." He let the breath out. "Humans aren't supposed to interact with demons. The angels don't allow it. I-I should have known she would get hurt, but-"

His voice broke again.

Harry gently stroked Mage's back as he spoke between sobs. He could literally feel the sadness radiate off of Mage as the emotion was broadcast all around them and even though Mage hadn't quite finished his story, Harry could very easily imagine the rest. It was eerily similar to the image he'd seen not too long ago. Another tear forced its way down Harry's face at the sudden flashback.

"Kiera sounds like a very brave person Mage," said Harry softly,"she'd be proud of how strong you were today in facing everything that we did. I know it's very easy to think you're to blame and believe me I know. I know too well. But you shouldn't blame yourself for it."

Mage's lip quivered.

"But I am to blame," he protested. He was so caught up in his own tears that he didn't notice that Harry was crying, too. If he had, he might have questioned why. "Kiera...she told me that it wasn't my fault that my parents had died. That I-I wasn't even there when they died in the war. I know the guilt I felt then was wrong and how it was helping me deal with it."

More tears splattered on his pants.

"...But Kiera wouldn't have died if she hadn't taken me in," Mage said. "She wouldn't have died if I hadn't stayed with her. If I...If I had gone, then..."

"Its still not your fault Mage," said Harry,"I don't know who Kiera was, but judging by what you've said, she was a good person, even if you had left, that wouldn't have stopped her from doing something else that the angels didn't like. And then, it would just be the same result. Mage. I know it really doesn't feel that way. I know. I had to watch...let's just say I know how that feels better than most."

He sniffled and looked over at Harry.

It was hard to see past his tears, but he suddenly realized that Harry was crying, too. Harry didn't seem like the type of person who would cry because someone else was.

Mage still didn't feel good. He still didn't feel happy. But Harry's words had helped him enough that he could think about how other people were feeling, and he knew that Harry had something he needed to get out, too.

"...What did you see?" he asked.