Chapter 0.08

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In a much better mood today, Cassandra bounced down the stairs, humming a tune under her breath. It’d taken some adjustment to the idea of being a spellcaster, but ultimately the fascination had won over the confusion and the fear of the unknown. It was somewhat exciting. There was something interesting about her, and while maybe it wasn’t unique, she didn’t know any other spellcasters. Maybe she could turn out to be a decent one, if she worked on it. It was something she could work towards, a goal she could have, and that in and of itself was somewhat motivating on its own. Cassandra had never truly wanted something.

“Good morning,” she sing-songed as she meandered into the kitchen. Her father was at the dining room table, as he often was. He was writing at the table, but that wasn’t new either. Cassandra grabbed a glass of orange juice and settled into a seat beside him.

“You’re in a good mood this morning, pumpkin,” Mortimer said, smiling softly.

“I am,” Cassandra said. “I’m not really sure why, but I’ve learnt not to question the good days.” She did have depression, and it could be rather crippling at times.

“Well, did you sleep well?” Mortimer asked.

“I guess I did,” she said. “I had a weird dream, though.”

“What about?” Mortimer set his pen down.

Cassandra wasn’t sure how to explain it. “There was this weird-coloured sky, and floating islands connected by bridges. Someone grabbed my hand and started tugging me somewhere, saying we were going to be late for… something.” Cassandra shrugged.

“It sounds like Magic Realm,” Mortimer said after a moment.

“It does?”

“Yes,” Mortimer answered. He stood up, moving to one of the cabinets and pulling the drawers open. Somewhere in it was – aha! With a triumphant sound at the back of his throat, Mortimer took the scroll to the dining room table and unrolled it over the glass for Cassandra to see. It was a painting of Magic Realm before the doom started to set in, the bridges still connected together, the floating islands larger in size and the buildings still in-tact.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Cassandra said. “But yeah, that’s kind of what it looked like.” She’d never been there, presumably, so it was strange she’d had a dream about it.

“Magic Realm was founded by the Five Families,” Mortimer explained, sitting back down in his seat. “These five were Goth, Crowley, Bachelor, Lee, and Eisenstern. You have blood from three, perhaps four, of the five.”

“That’s a lot,” Cassandra murmured. “What was Magic Realm made for? Just somewhere cool?”

“No,” Mortimer replied, shaking his head. “Magic was once more widely accepted in Simadonia. During the middle ages, the Watcher religions began to gain more of a grip on the populace, and the people began to turn to the Jacoban and Peteran rites instead of magic. Eventually, they lost their trust in magic, and began to persecute spellcasters. Ravenna Goth and her close friends decided to establish a magical parallel world that only spellcasters could reach as a safe-haven for young spellcasters to learn and practise magic without fear of persecution. In time, though, the five families died out, and some left Magic Realm. The Crowleys were the last ones still in Magic Realm and they were … they died out. And now, with none of the original five families still having strong presence in the Realm, it’s begun to fall apart. Eventually, it won’t exist anymore at all.”

That was terrible! Cassandra frowned. If Magic Realm was where young spellcasters went to learn, that was so much knowledge and history that they stood to lose! Cassandra had no idea what she could do about it, though. “Can the Realm be saved or repaired?” she asked.

Mortimer thought about that for a moment, his gaze moving to the ceiling. “Perhaps,” he said. “But it’d take a very powerful spellcaster to be able to do it alone. Most likely, it’d require several different spellcasters. Perhaps all four of us could make a dent in it.”

Cassandra thought about that for a moment. By the time Alexander had enough magical experience, though, it was more likely that their father would be gone. It was most likely going to end up being her and Alexander’s problem, and not something that their parents could truly help with. It was unfortunate, but that was reality all the same. She wondered if someday she’d end up helping to save it. That seemed like a lofty enough goal, but it’d certainly be something of an adventure. She’d have to get much better at magic than she was, to be sure.

“Don’t worry about it too much just yet,” Mortimer said, patting Cassandra’s hand. He’d seen that look and knew she was likely overthinking a little. “Magic Realm’s been standing for centuries, I think it’ll take a little more than this to truly destroy it.”

“It’s just kind of sad that we stand to lose so much history,” Cassandra said. “And the future generations of spellcasters deserve somewhere to learn in peace the same as the former generations did. What if things change and we end up with tension between spellcasters and human Sims again?” Where would they all go without Magic Realm?

Mortimer laughed quietly. “You’re more of an altruistic pioneer than you like to pretend, Cassie,” he said. “Someday, you’ll do great things I’m sure. But in the meantime, try to put it out of your mind for now. You’re still a dormant caster, anyway.” Only the Sages could unlock her true potential. Mortimer had never learned to, and if he remembered correctly, neither had Bella. Cassandra was still in high school, even, there were more important things to do than worry about Magic Realm and whether it was going to fall apart for good tomorrow, or whether the witch hunts were going to start up again.

“Will I become not dormant eventually?” Cassandra asked.

“Someday,” Mortimer replied. “But for now, you should likely just focus on graduating.”

* * *

Greg had managed to locate which house was Circe’s. Bella was grateful for the assist, because she unfortunately didn’t have the time, nor the inclination, to go knocking on random doors in Forgotten Hollow until she found the right one. That seemed like it’d probably be a bad idea all around, even though it was somewhat tempting.

She wondered if Circe would be happy to see her. If maybe they’d be able to become friends again. It wasn’t as if Bella didn’t still care about her, and surely Circe felt the same. Mortimer was just worried about nothing, that was what she figured. Mortimer was allowed to worry about strange things, she supposed. It wasn’t like Bella was known for being careful. If she was a little less intelligent, she probably would’ve died by now, but you don’t go through working for the fashion industry, cutthroat as it was, without picking up a thing or two.

Bella had already lost so many friends. Between the spellcaster wars, the fall of Magic Realm that was still ongoing, and the passage of time, it was difficult to keep friends for long. She and Circe had been friends since they were children, and Bella wanted that back. Was that so wrong?

She sighed to herself, currently relaxing in one of the lounge chairs in the living room. The fire crackled cheerily in the fireplace, a bright cyan aqua colour. This was, of course, a magical fireplace, and didn’t quite burn orange. The cup of chamomile tea in her hands shook slightly as she impatiently tapped the side of the cup.

She just wanted things right again, and she didn’t think that was asking for too much.

The front door opened and closed. She could smell his cologne before she saw him, but that was Mortimer home from work. For once, he was somewhat early. Bella smiled to herself, and he set his jacket in the hallway, then came into the living room, kissing her on the cheek and settling down in the chair opposit hers. “How was your day?” he asked.

“It was okay,” Bella answered. “Pretty good, actually. How was yours?”

“I’ve certainly had better days,” Mortimer answered with a slight grunt. “Everyone seemed to want to talk in circles, and I’ve long decided I’m over talking in circles.” Generally speaking, it was difficult to get anywhere when no one would move on from a certain point. Publishing was a difficult thing; not many Sims bought many books anymore, and it was tough to predict how the market would behave. That unfortunately led to discussions that went in circles with corporate bigwigs that didn’t understand the people the market represented very well, and plenty of lower-tier workers, Mortimer included, had to get into a fight or two with them.

And in the end, the corporate bigwigs would do whatever it was they wanted to do, no matter what any of their workers said. What was even the point, Mortimer wondered more than once.

“Certainly not talking in circles is more productive,” Bella said. He often had to have long discussions with people too high up the ladder to understand how the world worked anymore. It was a grating thing, but also very understandable. People tended to forget what it was like to be at the bottom of the proverbial corporate food-chain, perhaps very easily, but then, no one remained at the bottom very long in Simadonia. Provided one put in some measure of effort, they could be about mid-tier within a week or so.

“You’re probably right about that,” Mortimer said, sighing. “Is there any tea left?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” Bella replied, standing up and heading into the kitchen. “At least three or four cups I think.”

“I’ll have some I think,” Mortimer said. Chamomile tea wasn’t his deal, that was more Bella’s, but she was right in that it was calming, and it did have a strange way of making one happy for no real reason. Mortimer could use a shot of liquid sunshine about now.

“Oh, I finally found Circe,” Bella said, raising her voice a little to be heard from the kitchen.

Mortimer had almost hoped she’d forgotten, but then he supposed things wouldn’t be that easy. “I see,” he answered. “When are you going?” There was no sense in pretending she wasn’t going or could be persuaded to change her mind. She’d already decided.

“When’s your next day off?” Bella asked.

“Tomorrow,” Mortimer replied.

“Then I’m going tomorrow.”

Of course. Why wouldn’t she be going tomorrow? She was in quite a hurry, but this shouldn’t be surprising he supposed. “Alright,” he said.

Bella returned there, handing Mortimer one of the cups in her hand. Chamomile tea always smelled good to him. “It’ll be quick,” Bella said. “We just give her the good news and she’ll have to figure out the rest on her own. I can’t do everything, but, hopefully she takes the opportunity.” Bella thought it was a good one for sure, and it wasn’t every day that one like that came along.

Mortimer had his reservations about what Circe would do and how she’d react to the news, but he didn’t say that. Something told him, though, that Circe was the type of Sim that would prefer not to have any restrictions. Vampire magic was mostly mind-based. It was all about manipulating Sims, and had some fairly powerful effects, a few of which spellcasters could also do with magic. Vampires couldn’t command lightning, but they could command those that could. Mind-based magic was harder to fight off once it’d gotten its claws in you, and Mortimer wasn’t looking forward to having to fight with Circe. He supposed it depended mostly on how much Circe had learnt from Vladislaus Straud.

With any luck, she hadn’t learnt much at all.

“Ah,” Mortimer said, thinking of something unrelated to Circe to say, “Cassandra and I talked about Magic Realm. She seemed fairly interested in it.”

“Does she?” Bella asked. “That’s good. I was afraid she’d never want to know anything about it, given how abruptly I dropped it in her lap.”

Mortimer shrugged, taking a drink of his tea, and setting the cup down on the coffee table. “I suspected she’d be able to handle it sooner or later,” he said.

“Is that an I told you so?” Bella asked, one side of her lips quirking up, an eyebrow raising in amusement.

“Maybe,” Mortimer said, smirking right back. “She’s doing well for someone that’s been told her parents have been keeping some important things from her. It’s just fortunate none of the other spellcaster lines decided to tell her before we could.”

Bella frowned slightly. “I don’t think any of them would,” she said.

Mortimer sighed. “We’re the last of the five, Bella,” he said. “And you’d be surprised what some Sims will do for power.” Ruining a teenage girl’s life was actually not very far down the list of those things.

* * *

“Well, this is it,” Bella said, looking at the small house. It wasn’t even truly small; mostly, it’d been built upward, almost like it wanted to be a townhouse instead of a proper home. Bella tilted her head at it, eyeing the thorny vines that crawled up the sides of the brick facade. It was… quaint.

“I hate vampires,” Mortimer was grumbling, looking at the dead trees in the yard and barren wisps of what should have been bushes, most likely. “Waste of good lawns.”

Bella snorted in amusement. Trust Mortimer to focus on something so off the wall. The lawn? Who really cared about the lawn? Clearly Mortimer did. He did have a notable appreciation for well-cared-for lawns and such. She shouldn’t be surprised, it was just very easy to forget.

“She probably won’t come out on her own,” Bella said. The sun was still out, and vampires, as most everyone knew, disliked the sun. She took a breath in, and wandered up to the door, ringing the door bell. At first, there wasn’t any sound in response, and Bella was concerned she may have missed her. Greg had said she was here this morning, so Bella was sure she was still here. Ah, despite the sun being up, it was cloudy here. That was why Forgotten Hollow was where it was; the weather was perfect. Vampires couldn’t feel temperatures, but the constant cloud cover meant going outside during the day was more often than not a possibility for vampires, even fledglings.

Mortimer watched the door with bated breath, hoping against hope that Circe never answered. Of course, it would only delay the inevitable. Bella would insist on trying again later. It was unfortunate, but also a reality, and Mortimer knew that as well as anyone else that knew anything about her.

Then, there was a metallic clicking sound, and the door opened.

Circe didn’t look any different. Her brown hair was streaking grey in a few places, brown eyes narrowed, nose scrunched up. Bella almost took a step backwards. Mortimer moved closer, coming to stand just behind his wife.

“Well, well, well…” Circe said, her lips, currently coated in purple lipstick, quirking upward at one side. “If it isn’t the Goths. And what, pray tell, are you doing around here? You weren’t looking for little ol’me, were you?”

Bella swallowed, and then nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I… it took a lot of work to find you. I wanted to see how you’re doing and, I have good news for you.”

“I’m not interested in talking to you,” Circe answered, her tone suddenly half snarl. Bella remembered, right then, that Circe could be rather intimidating when she wanted to be, and her temperament was erratic, to say the least. “You’re the reason I ended up out here in the first place, eking out a living around all these dead things, and, oh, nowadays I’m a dead thing.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Bella replied, frowning. “I didn’t tell Cornelia to do what she did. If she’d asked me, I would’ve told her -“

“Not to?” Circe finished, scoffing. “Of course. The glamourous and perfect Bella Goth certainly wouldn’t betray her best friend for a Sage position.”

“I – a what?” Bella asked, confused. “I was never offered one.”

“You don’t have to be offered a Sage position to get one, Bella, I should know.” And of course, Circe Toledo hadn’t gotten herself into the position of Sage of Untamed Magic on accident. No one needed to know that little detail, but there was a reason no one had any idea where Aine had gone. That secret would die with Circe, whenever that was.

“I would never -“

“Gods, save it,” Circe answered, her head moving to the side and then back in annoyance. “I have little interest in what you have to say. I doubt this news of yours will be particularly interesting either.”

“I think you want to hear about it, Circe,” Mortimer said. Circe’s attitude was starting to distress Bella, and he wanted it all over with as soon as was Simishly possible.

“Still doubt it,” Circe answered, glancing at her nails. “But if you insist on wasting my time, fine. What?”

Bella glanced at Mortimer. Mortimer, just slightly, nodded. “I spoke to the Sages,” Bella said. “They’re willing to fix this undead problem, and return your magic. If you prove yourself to them as an assistant, you could take your place as a Sage back.” Well, none of the Sages had outright said that, but Bella thought a little extra embellishment to sweeten the deal wasn’t so bad.

“Really?” Circe asked. She sounded incredulous, and then after, began laughing. How dare she? “How dare you,” Circe growled after a moment, her eyes alighting with rage. “I don’t need your help! I never did! You needed me!” Circe raised her hand, releasing a wave of mind energy. Bella and Mortimer hardly saw it coming. Mortimer dove towards Bella, but was too late, and the blast crashed into and threw both of them off the porch and into the street.

“I didn’t think you did,” Bella said, wincing and sitting up on the asphalt, “I just wanted to -“

“Wanted to what?” Circe interjected. “Make me owe you? Did you want to be friends again? Did you think you could charm your way back into my good graces and go back to treating me like your personal lackey? Not anymore!” Circe raised her hand, firing another blast of mind energy. This time, Mortimer saw it coming, and fired a blast of magic in response. Bella scrambled behind the barrier he created.

“Circe, stop this!” Bella cried. How had it turned out this way? She’d only been trying to help, but it seemed like every time she did, things turned out like this. She should stop trying to help, that was sure.

“Why?” Circe asked, her voice almost hysterical. Mortimer didn’t go onto the offensive, instead waiting. A moment later, that turned out to be smart, as Circe attempted to use one of her mind control abilities, only for it to fizzle out against the ward Mortimer cast at the last second. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years!”

Mortimer glanced at Bella. She looked at him. They needed to remove themselves from this situation before one or the other of them wore down too far, and Circe managed to use her mind control, and turn them on one another. Unfortunately, Mortimer had no bright ideas just yet, and apparently neither did Bella.

Circe fired again. Mortimer blocked and fired back. Bella moved to the side, attempting to catch Circe off-guard with a potion, but at the last second Circe fired at the bottle, and then at Bella. Mortimer barely managed to stop the magic before it reached Bella, and fired a blast of flame. Even as a vampire, Circe was almost evenly matched with him, and it was unfortunate. Logical, given she used to be the best duellist amongst the spellcasters, and that kind of knowledge never truly went away.

Unleashing an unearthly sound of annoyance, Circe drew back and fired a wave of a strange colour Mortimer had never seen vampires use before. Despite raising a shield, the wave of vibrant indigo went right through the shield. At first, it tingled, and then Mortimer was gone.

A startled noise escaped Bella’s throat, but she could only stare, only stare at where he used to be, because it didn’t make any sense. “What…”

Circe cackled in delight. “He’s gone, he’s gone, gone forever,” she sing-songed. “The Goths took away what I treasured most. And now you’ve lost what you treasured most. Understand this is only the beginning, Bella. I will not stop until every last Goth in the line pays. This is just the beginning. Gone, he’s gone!”

Circe’s words, and the cackling laughter, were almost lost on Bella. She couldn’t stop staring, the pain and confusion evident in her eyes. He was gone. Because of her. If Bella just hadn’t been so stubborn, he’d still be here. The twisting in her chest tightened, and she released a sudden breath, and when she drew air in again, her throat tightened and squeaked, and the tears rushed out seconds later. “What did you do?” she whispered. Circe hardly noticed over the sound of her own peels of laughter.

“What did you do?!” Bella shouted, lunging at Circe without a second thought, hands aimed at her throat. Circe smirked and waved a hand, easily sending Bella flying to one side. She almost bounced across the asphalt this time. She was so like a slinky, Circe decided.

“I won’t tell you that,” Circe replied. “Let’s see if little miss perfect can figure it out, if you want him back so badly.” Circe loosed another snorting giggle, and turned back toward her house, leaving Bella in the street.

It was music to Circe’s ears, as the sound of the birds chirping and the wind rustling the trees was joined by a heartbroken shriek, a blend of tears and pain, shattering the eerie peace of Forgotten Hollow.

Today, Circe Toledo won.

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