Scion of Atlantis

The fluorescent light flickered on, emitting a low hum, illuminating the washroom with a sterile white glow. The door shut behind me with a click, and I stepped in front of the chipped bathroom mirror, gripping the sink with one hand on either side. The cool porcelain helped ground me, brought me back to reality, and dispelled some of the dreamlike quality of how the day had gone.

Taking pains not to look up at the mirror- not yet at least- I twisted the faucet, just to splash some cool water on my face. I couldn't fool myself, I knew I was putting off trying to contact Aya just a little longer. Meeting Marlowe and Prince, and beginning to get a better idea of how big this whole... thing was, that I had become a part of, suddenly made me feel anxious about getting some real answers.

"My prince, raise your head," Aya's voice came to me, sweet and smoky.

I looked up and saw the woman, spirit, whatever she was. This time, she was at the forefront, as if she was standing between my reflection and the mirror surface somehow, though I knew that made no sense.

"Clever men, your new retainers," she said, holding one arm up to rub the ridge of her collarbone, her other hand at her elbow, "This is a... tenuous claim to demense, but it will suffice. You are well, my prince? You have escaped your pursuers for the nonce?"

"Yeah, for now," I replied standing up straighter, so I could look Aya in the eye, and be a little less tempted to stare at her chest. "The advice I was given was to ask you about magic. I need to go back to my apartment at some point, and if I'm going to handle the Harvesters, the people who were chasing me, somehow, I'll probably need some actual power. To protect myself with." It was awkward asking for it. Despite my reasons, under that silent, cross-armed stare I felt a little like a child asking for ice cream. "Uh, please."

Aya studied me for a time, and I was startled for a moment. I had never noticed how arresting her eyes were, a faded, creamy blue-grey that seemed at odds with her dark skin. I swallowed nervously, breaking from her gaze to focus unnecessarily on closing the running faucet. When I hesitantly raised my head again to meet her eyes one more, Aya finally opened her mouth.

"You need learn that you are now royalty of the eldest and greatest civilization that the world has ever known," she began, "Less than one hundred of the princes of Atlantis walk the earth, now, where once strode half a thousand. Every nation on earth owes something to the Lost Continent, and the Six Colonies you know today as Iraq, Egypt, China, India, Greece, and Peru- each one ruled by a succession of regimes but never abandoned by humanity since their founding. And now you have inherited a fraction of that glory. You must walk with your head high."

I sighed. It was hard not to think 'this royalty shit again'. "I understand how important this all is," I said tiredly, "But I'm standing in front of you in clothes that I slept in, wearing stolen shoes. I'm the last person anyone would call a prince right now. But I'm not going to survive to be much of anything without a little help, Aya."

She regarded me skeptically while I spoke, before giving her head a light shake and making a wordless "Hmph" noise when I was done. "Very well," she said eventually, "I can grant you three spells, the smallest sliver of your power, until you prove worthy of more."

I sighed again, and this time I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease. "Thank you," was my only reply, and I felt deeply grateful for it. Thus far, this stupid magical inheritance thing had only been trouble for me. Finally getting some actual, direct benefit from it would be nice.

Aya frowned at me again, pausing to gather herself. "First, you need to understand what magic is. What I am about to teach you are words from the first language, the language taught by our predecessors to the first humans to follow the pull of their dreams and arrive on the shores of Atlantis." I frowned to hear that, since it raised a whole lot of questions, but I didn't want to interrupt now that I was finally getting something useful from Aya other than vague warnings. "In time you will learn to combine these words," she continued, "How to build sentences and weave the words into more complex spells. The possibilities before you are endless, but first you have to earn your power."

The next thing she said I have trouble putting down in plain English. The syllables of the language of Atlantis are not easily understood. When she said the word, I cannot explain what it felt like hitting my ear. The best I can describe it is that it was like a loud burst of static, or or maybe a word coming out over an over-amped speaker system that was impossible to make out clearly. I did understand what it meant, but even then it doesn't have a one to one translation. It was similar to "stop" but it could also mean a liquid freeing, a process pausing, the end of a life, the finish of a race, the conclusion of a story... all depending on the context of the word.

"[STOP] has many uses, depending on the context and who or what you use it on," Aya explained patiently. For a second I thought I saw her eyes dart to the washroom door, but then they flicked back to me and she explained a little more quickly. "It is a demand, an order to something to cease movement, and because of that it can express itself very violently. If someone was charging you, for instance, they would be thrown back. The power of the power is proportional to the power that must be employed. If someone was merely walking towards you, [STOP] would cause them to freeze in place, but with less force than is they were charging, you see?"

I nodded, absorbing all this, while Aya went on with another of the not-language words of Atlantean. "[CLAIM] is used to bring things into your demesne," she said, tapping her palm, "It is a very key spell for you, allowing you to grow you own power with every cast. It cannot force a thing to be, however. A person you make your servant with [CLAIM] must consent, or rather, they would choose to consent if the question were asked of them." Aya then gestured at the room. "To use it on a building or a place you must already have some attachment to the place that would make it your own. For example, you could now use it on this building, since it houses the office of your servants. If you have a home that is firmly within your demesne, you could then [CLAIM] the street it sits on, you see?" I didn't quite fully understand, the exact meaning of a "domain" or "demesne" or however she was pronouncing it with her exotic accent eluded me right now, but I wasn't about to stop her now that she was going.

"The last spell I give to you is [INSPECT]," she seemed increasingly anxious, eyes darting towards the door, and if she wasn't a psychic projection in a mirror I would have thought she'd have started sweating, "It lets you discern the nature of something, and used on a person gives you an idea of their health." She swallowed, before turning her eyes back to me. "We are out of time. You must flee, my prince! He is coming for us, and we are both in great danger! Go, do not wait, go!"

Suddenly, it felt like the whole building shook, and I heard a deafening crash from the other room. My eyes widened and my pulse quickened as I started for the door. My first thought went to Rosalie, who was out in the reception room waiting for me, but my second was for Aya. I hesitated only a moment, before I reminded myself that the version of Aya I could see was a projection, she was no more "in" the mirror than I was and running off would not involve abandoning her. "Thank you!" I shouted to her over my shoulder before I burst into the reception room into chaos.

The first thing I noticed was the smell, the acrid, metallic stink of rotting blood. The door to the lobby was halfway off it's hinges, having been slammed open so hard that it left an imprint in the drywall, and the inset glass shattered and spilled all over the floor. The room itself was dominated by two figures, grappling in the centre of the room. The tall, bald grey man I had noticed watching me in the square towered, feeling a giant in the small space. He was struggling with Mr. Marlowe, the obese lawyer scowling as they grappled with each other. The grey man had one hand on Marlowe's shoulder, and the other gripped the breast of Marlowe's brightly coloured suit jacket.

As I stood, stunned, I saw Marlow seize the grey man by his own lapel, and then he pistoned a meaty fist into the grey man's face with a smack loud enough that it seemed to explode in the tiny room. The grey man didn't flinch, however, and when Marlowe drew back for another strike, while the grey man's shattered sunglasses fell to the floor revealing a pair of deep-set, bloodshot eyes, he otherwise didn't seem to have a mark on him. As massive as Marlowe was, the grey man topped him by more than a few inches, although Marlowe had the advantage in mass.

"Ozzy!" I hear a familiar voice shout, and I pulled my eyes away from the damage to where I found Rosalie, back against the far wall of the reception, clutching her right arm as though she was injured. My eyes flicked from the fight to her. I could see how I might shimmy past the fight and make for the door, but knew I couldn't live leaving Rosalie behind to her fate.

The grey man opened his mouth, as if to say something, and instead of a punch this time Marlowe slammed an open hand against his opponent's face, clamping down over it. "You'd better get out of here, kids," Marlowe yelled at Rosalie and myself, scowling as, for a brief moment, the grey man seemed to lift him off of his feet as they grappled, "I haven't let a client down yet and I'm not about to start. Go!"

Hurriedly, I skirted around the battle, and, with an athleticism I didn't know I possessed, vaulted over the reception desk and went to Rosalie's side, crouching next to her. She looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. "I'm fine," she said, before I could even open my mouth, "He's right, we've gotta go!"

Helping Rosalie to her feet, I turned in time to see Marlowe get shoved back against the desk. One of the grey man's hands was now forked into Marlowe's armpit, and instead of holding on the the grey man's lapel, Marlowe was firing a series of rabbit punches to the grey man's side. "What about Prince?" I called over, and Marlowe shot back with, "You leave Prince to me, right now, you two have to leave. I'll give you a call once this individual has been dealt with!" The grey man's hand left his shoulder and wrapped around half of Marlowe's head. A thumb found Marlowe's eye socket, and the huge lawyer bellowed in pain and fury.

I didn't hesitate any longer. Putting my arm around Rosalie's shoulders, I helped her to her feet, and together we dashed for the hallway, pausing just long enough for Rosalie to grab her guitar case with her uninjured hand from where she had it leaning against the wall. We had just passed through the doorway, and I had glanced towards the lobby- the homeless dude had wisely vanished with his things by this point- when I heard something from the office that made my blood run cold, a single syllable that sounded closer to a burst of static than an actual human sound.

"[STOP]!" the grey man had shouted at Rosalie and I. I could feel some kind of heat haze wash over us, pressing down on us like a wave of hot pressure. For me, it vanished almost as soon as it was felt, but for a moment I felt every muscle in my body lock with tension. It was only felt in passing, and the sensation was gone just as quickly as it came. Dread was left in it's wake- no wonder Aya had panicked in a way that she never had for the Harvesters. If this guy also had magic, magic just like mine, he was definitely a threat over a couple mostly normal humans with injector guns.

I tried to dash away, but found that Rosalie was still rooted to the spot, her body stiff as a statue. I looked back to her, and she stared back, her face in an expression of terror. "Go," she told me in a voice cracking with fear, "Run, get out of here. You need to get away."

I glanced into the reception room. At some point the grey man had turned about, facing the door, but now Marlowe had his arms wrapped about the grey man's neck and head, holding him back in an brutal headlock. Both men had their faces twisted in silent snarls. Beyond them, the door to the actual office was shut, and I thought that perhaps Mr. Prince had barricaded himself in.

I looked over at Rosalie. There had to be something I could do to free her. Aya had hammered, over and over, that my magic came from some kind of royal status that had been passed onto me. If the grey man had the same power, could I leverage my own authority over his? "Rosalie," I said, moving my arm from around her shoulders, to rest it at her elbow, "Do you trust me?"

For a long moment we looked at each other, then, she gave me the barest suggestion of a nod. I tightened my grip on her elbow, and took a deep breath. Then, I cast my very first spell, looking into her eyes while I said a single syllable: "[CLAIM]."

Rosalie's eyes widened even more, and she stumbled forward, suddenly free. Having joined my demesne, my authority exceeded the grey man's, and his hold on her evaporated in a way that I found palpable. There was a shout of anger from inside the reception room, but neither of us waited for him to get another chance to cast. We turned towards the entrance and scrambled for the street.

In a few heartbeats, we had reached the entrance, and I pried the door open and pushed Rosalie out in front, not wanting her to be in range if the grey man thought to [STOP] her again. We didn't rest until we were far down the street, and my body forced me to slow down. This was my second all-out mad dash in a day, and I coughed, leaning on my knees. I was deeply regretting smoking that dope the night previous, as I sucked in breath after breath, my lungs burning.

Rosalie seemed barely bothered by the sprint. She was barely out of breath at all, and was looking behind us, expression stern as she let me recover. I could see her flexing her injured arm, working her shoulder and elbow. As I recovered, she eventually looked over at me. "I can feel you in my head," she said, "Like a... bubble of sensation on the inside of my skull." She frowned deeply. "What did you do to me?"

I coughed up a hard, chunky bit of phlegm and spat it on the pavement before I responded. "I... claimed you, added you to my demesne." Slowly, I straightened myself. "I don't fully understand it myself. Aya... the woman in my head that shows up in mirrors didn't have a chance to completely explain. But, uh...." It struck me how weird this all felt, the strangeness of what I was about to say. "That... guy has the same kind of magic as me, which is based on some kind of royal authority," I attempted to explain, "I figured that, by adding you to my demesne, my authority would supersede his and free you from that effect."

She looked stunned for a moment, just standing there regarding me with a cool look, but then it was he turn to grab my arm. "Come on," she told me, as she tossed her guitar back over one shoulder, "Let's get back to Sail-Cooley, he should be reluctant to attack us again when we're in a crowd."

We started back down the street, walking now but not taking our time, and the crowds going this way and that along the sidewalk grew as we returned to the shopping district. After a long, awkward silence, Rosalie eventually muttered "You should have left me behind." She gave me a sidelong look. "Why didn't you leave me? You could have gotten away, free and clear."

I narrowed my eyes, giving her a questioning look. "How the hell could I leave you behind when you got into a fight with Harvesters earlier in order to save my ass?" I responded rhetorically, "You've been doing a lot to help me, introducing me to, whoever Marlowe and Prince are, wizard lawyers or whatever. Giving me the hard basics on what I can expect from life on the otherside." I glanced around the square suspiciously as we came up on it, but recalling how I spotted the grey man in the press of people earlier, I wondered if there was a reason he seemed to not want to engage with us around crowds. "I'd have to be a real asshole to just abandon you like that."

Rosalie went quiet for a time, and when we stopped at a traffic crossing, waiting for the light to change so we could get on the other side of the street without attracting attention, she reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. "Listen, I appreciate it, but you need to remember that life out here is pretty cutthroat," she told me in a serious tone, looking at me with a soft expression, "We are not on the same side just because we're both different. Most people on the otherside would have just cut and run. Most people value their lives over their friends, especially friends that they met for the first time just a few hours ago."

I looked back to the road, and thought about what she had said. "Right now, the only people I have on my side are you, Marlowe and Prince," I said carefully, "And I couldn't really do much to help Marlowe and Prince when we left, so I just have to hope that that grey dude wants nothing to do with them. So if you want a purely logical answer to why I didn't just abandon you, it's because that, depending on how a fistfight turns out, I might not have anyone else."

She gave me a sidelong look, that I tried not to acknowledge. I thought it was just natural to try and help someone you count as a friend, even if you don't know them well, but now it felt like Rosalie was trying to figure out if I had some kind of angle in rescuing her. She had alluded to having had a rough time when she crossed over to the otherside, too, so I tried not to hold that suspicious streak against her, but it felt really unfair. I was just doing my best to get through this progressively weirder and weirder day.

We returned to the sitting area at Sail-Cooley Square and sat down heavily across from one another. Even though we had escaped the grey man for now, I still felt defeated. Whatever confidence I had built up by rescuing her, Rosalie torn down with her suspicion. I had to refocus, and figure out what my next steps were.

"So who the hell was that guy?" the girl herself asked, shifting in her seat so she could cross he arms. I noticed she had also pulled her hoodie sleeves up to hide her hands. In response I could only shrug. "I don't know for sure," I admitted, "But I think I saw him last night. I think he was hunting the person that Aya used to belong to."

I put a hand on my forehead, if if that would help me sort out my scrambled memories of the night before. "I was at a rave in the Brewery district, in that old abandoned hotel on Trefoil Street," I said, trying to reconstruct my memories, "There was some kind of fight, and two people ran through the rave. I thought one of them had wings, or maybe just a really long coat. Something flexible and flappy trailing them, anyway. When they got through the rave into one of the rooms, one of them was thrown through a window, I think? I only heard and didn't see the breaking glass. And then they fell to the ground below, something like five or six stories." I drummed my fingers on the tabletop impatiently. "Then, I ran down a stairway, to go check on them. That's the last thing I really remember before waking up."

Rosalie and I were quiet for a time, as we both processed this. Then, I broke the silence by saying, "I think there's a good chance that the grey guy was involved in the fight, maybe even that he was responsible for throwing that person off the balcony." I frowned, and stilled my fingers. "Aya mentioned that I 'accepted' the Grimoire and title. Maybe whoever the grey man was hunting passed it on to me, when I went to check on them? Before they died?"