Suiming

  “Seren! The Crown, take it off!” Suiming yelled; his sense of Realm-art was overwhelmed by the tsunami of casting. Two powerful sources of casting, he only hoped that no officers were nearby. He noticed the complex patterns on Kaspar’s chest. The shapes were familiar; those were the seal of the Starseeker’s flesh. Before Seren could act, Kaspar cast while the flames flickered as they dimmed. Kaspar could flash away any second, but he stayed. The bright beam passed right next to Suiming, leaving a wound on his shoulder. Seren’s flame was turning into something else, fueling the complex seal. He could feel it, the free and unchained blaze being bound by the seal as they were converted into some kind of liquid, a fuel that simmered into the pattern as they powered something Suiming couldn’t figure out.

  Why, Suiming thought, out of anyone, why is he holding the crown?

  Suiming manifested the constellation as they melted into a star. About the size of a Siyuenese paper lantern. It glowed brightly while Suiming accelerated its inevitable explosion.

  “Congratulations on the sharpness, Sir,” Kaspar said as he stood up. Scarlet serpent slithered down his shin, twirled around his ankle as it sank into the ground. His skin was burnt into crackles of a leather-like surface. Yet despite all that, despite that the Crown did not frighten Suiming, nor could any bluff work in his favor, Kaspar still stood straight, hands shoved into his pocket as his eyes looked down at Suiming.

  “Your crown has no authority, y’know that, right?” Suiming said as he took off his monocle. It was out of charge, but if he could get close to scrape time off the crown, then he would win without a doubt.

  “We are both scholars, Sir, no crown and title can stop us.”

  “But does your heart stop you?”

  Kaspar shook his head.

  “Where’s my sword?” Seren asked as she looked at her non-existent watch. Suiming understood her gesture, shaking his head while he responded:

  “Nope, donated it to the vacuum.”

  With a nod, Suiming let the star crash into Kaspar as he manifested a cluster of constellations. He aimed for the Crown. Gentle flame followed the simulated star, as if it were the comet’s tail. Kaspar took the blow as he cast. The wave of casting, despite being diluted to fuel that strange system, still felt suffocating. Kaspar countered the attack, but in the blinding blaze, Suiming couldn’t see what it was. Their flaring Realm-arts clashed again and again. Suiming’s constellations surrounded Kaspar, only to be broken into dots of light by his deadly Realm-art. Seren’s flame joined the ephemeral firework of death. A death with no rot, no new beginning, only the end. Her blood splattered as they turned into the same flame of finality that burned in the War.

  He is still hiding his true power…there is something lacking in his Realm-art. Or is it that the side-effect is too heavy? He thought as he crashed another star into Kaspar, it imploded as it released the extreme heat. The inferno scorched his face, against the wave of heat, Suiming pounded his fist on Kaspar, knuckles slipping on the Crown as a corner of his monocle scraped it.

  How would I get Kaspar to open his mouth? I know nothing about him… I doubt that two truths one lie, or other ice-breakers would work in this context…Perhaps I should hang him with a riddle or something?

  Suiming couldn’t continue on his train of thought. Kaspar flashed away with the power of the Crown, but his casting persisted.

  “Should I turn back the clock?” Seren asked as she inspected the battleground.

  The walls and paintings were scorched, as many of them were punctured by Kaspar. Cracks covered the walls like spider webs, and the already abandoned and run-down place seemed even more like a ruin. The pillars supporting the weight were also caught in the battle.

  “Maybe later, we’ll have to evacuate,” Suiming replied, moving toward the door. He strode out of the building, shading his eyes with his hand, and was showered in the bright sunshine. The brightness reminded him of Kaspar’s Realm-art, but much gentler and warmer. As Suiming searched for other sources of casting, he felt that the sun, hanging over the apartment opposite him, had shifted its color to a colder tone.

  Then he noticed it.

  Kaspar’s Realm-art. Light turned into circles, one greater than the other, each one containing the other, like a tunnel with no end, as they formed a shape similar to the obscure ancient scholarly symbols. Kaspar let the great beam, pararreling the sun, crash down. The light diverged into a waterfall of many smaller rays raining down on Suiming.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Seren! Turn back the clock!” Suiming yelled. The hyphens of destruction penetrated his chest.

  …

  Seren

  Realm-art: Heartbeat of Finale

  She turned the hourglass within her, where the sand was crystals of her tears

  Seren closed her eyes, drawing in a sharp breath, her sense of Realm-arts drowned in Kaspar’s casting. She felt nothing, nor the thrill, nor regret, nor doubt. Usually, she would worry that using the power that was granted to her as the extension of an Existence would end up worse than what she tried to fix. But she didn’t care; if more life was to be saved, if the future was to be star-filled and flowers-bloomed, then let it be.

  The bell in her mind rang; her fate was sealed in lead as the whispers speaking of the future were silenced. This could be forever, not until she faced the consequence that she could never avoid, whether it was a stab through her chest, losing someone dear, or any horrid fate.

  She opened her eyes. The colors stretched long before her as she saw the distant silhouette of something great, yet in pain. Her origin was lamenting in a language she could not understand. It was a cry cried in the blooming of a new star, each syllable echoing longer than millennia. It was the same voice that spoke to her in the fire where Seren died, and she inherited her name, only now it was in a greater, unnamed cosmic agony. It bled, blood of impossible colors flooded everything her eyes could see, until everything turned to the emptiness of the Realm.

  What was before her began to turn into the bland, colorless white of nihility. The world unveiled itself before her as she took a glimpse into the Realm. Still empty.

  The fiber of reason of consequences healed back as the colors and sounds of the world soaked her. Warmth and coldness bit her, both sorrow and joy greeted her, while her Realm-art turned the hand of time back.

  In the chaos, Seren saw Suiming, then the abandoned building and its wall art. In the trance and touch of the world returning, Seren saw Suiming glaring at her. Her hand twitched as she almost reached for her sword.

  Seren turned the time back, right to the time Suiming entered after his arrow of stars.

  “Suiming, what time is it?” Seren asked.

  “…I don’t know. Quarter past noon? I guess.”

  Seren smiled. Without hesitation, without the whisper’s guide, she struck Kaspar. Like a snake coiling toward its prey. She did not use her fire, reaching for the spiky, foreign, and unwelcoming crooked crown. The cold came up her fingers as she felt the impossible texture. Round, yet sharp as her hand grabbed it. That sensation felt akin to the creations and corruption of the Existences rather than a stone crown. As she tried to pull the crown off, the scorch came passing her. The heat of a miniature star reminded her of the power of Letter-Writer Aquarii released onto the scorching battlefield.

  Seren endured the heat as she tried to take away Kaspar’s slippery yet rough Crown. The thing clung to his head hard, as if a barnacle on a whale.

  What is this feeling? This is not thrill, nor fear…was I always so neutral?

  Suiming said something in Siyuenese; she did not understand all of it, but she heard two words:

  “Let go!”

  He sensed something I couldn’t.

  Seren couldn’t hear the whispers, nor did she want to spill blood. As she thought, her other hand stabbed her pen in Kaspar’s neck, avoiding his artery while causing enough pain to stop him from casting. Suiming’s star impacted Kaspar while it collapsed. Into a tiny dot that was much cooler. The waves of casting started to cease; whether Kaspar was feigning or not, she had bought some time.

  “He changed something about the Crown…the extension…chained it,” Suiming said as he walked closer to Kaspar. His constellations formed into spears and arrows.

  “…You truly deserved your title, Sir,” Kaspar said as he smiled. That foul and polite smile of a maniac in a fancy suit.

  “So, Sir, out of respect, I will not abuse the power of your masterpiece…all fair and square, agreed?” Kaspar said while Seren felt the crushing tide of casting. In response, the spears turned.

  The last time Suiming did that was in the warcamp, at the time Seren climbed up the ladder of power quickly and became Aquarii’s guard. The spears turned to her, now toward their enemy.

  The flames burned high that day.

  And like the flaring blaze, the spears shot away. Kaspar’s bullets responded. This was a handshake, a deadly handshake between two mad scholars, each bearing the same title.

  Their quarrel flashed before Seren’s eyes as it blinded her.

  Every time she turned the clock back, something felt wrong, like her origin was fooling her, but this time, it felt different. An ending that she’d like to see.

  The violent blooming between two lights and the crashing between two sources of casting continued. Kaspar crushed Suiming down, drawing him into the aggressive, unbound Realm-art. But Suiming persisted; this was his only advantage- to ignore any side effect of casting. He was the chain that held the prisoners of the cave, but he was the one who brought the light into the cave.

  Then, Kaspar had run dry of his casting.