A Wolf at the Door

The roof dipped and swayed and I moved with it, countering with The Way before the golem had even committed to its charge. My sword passed through the clay fingers on one hand, sending them spinning off into the dark.

It was hard to concentrate on what I was doing. Part of me just wanted to watch the bits of light, gleaming and bouncing off my blade as we moved. I could have stared at the layers and layers of magic that coated the blade for hours, picking through each tiny bit of Cameron that remained on the metal. Because that’s what it was. Every bit of magic on my sword was a piece of Cameron’s soul, freely given, and I could smell him on it now.

That same Cameron-taste permeated my armor, and beneath that, on my body itself, I was wrapped in delicate golden threads, just like Mystic Cindy had said. Those tasted like sage and strawberries. Like Mira.

Again, I felt the ground beneath me lurch and ripple, and though I felt like I was moving in slow motion, part of me knew I was striking impossibly fast, dropping under the reaching clay arms to slash at the knees. The Way passed through the first, and halfway through the second before I lost momentum. I threw my shoulder into the golem’s stomach, sending it careening off balance with only one leg left to support it. The severed calf stayed where it had been left, the flesh color melting into gray from the cut downward. From dust to dust…With my strangely enhanced vision, I could see the threads of magic stretch to the breaking point between the severed pieces of the limb. And then, like a rubber band extended to its max, the golden strings of power snapped back, yanking the lumps of clay back into one piece.

Bit by bit, the lost pieces of it snaked across the rooftop, plastering back together with a wet sucking sound. In no time at all, the thing was struggling to its feet again, turning to face me.

Any other time, this would have been cause for concern. How do you destroy the indestructible? But my vision was dazzled with the glimmering web of magic, with the intricate connections that protected and animated the clay. I could see the spell, wound tightly around its clay flesh, anchored into a sigil etched between its shoulder blades. Erase the sigil, he’d said…. But why? Why do that when I could just…

Okay, I admit I have no idea what I did that night. At the time, it was all just so…logical. The golem bared its teeth at me, hatred gleaming from what used to be my eyes. Within one of its palms, I could see the snippet of blessed thread glowing, a piece of my wards. That was how it had passed in and out. Inside the other palm, the single piece of Tai’s hair shone like a beacon, ten times as bright as Cam’s blessing. Taken when the Golem-Dante had been rubbing the big man’s shoulders. And embedded at the back of its neck, a piece of paper, no doubt the token from the creature’s maker and master.

The web of magic that bound it up was complex, delicate but strong. Lace made of steel. But as such, just one small snip would unravel it all. So that’s what I did. I gestured with one hand, flinging my will away from me, and every thread of magic in its path snapped with an audible pop.

The golem itself burst into a cloud of dry dust, drifting all around me, glittering like fairy dust as it slowly sifted down to earth. The piece of Cam’s string turned black and shriveled, withering like it had been burned. Tai’s hair, almost pure magic in and of itself, was immolated entirely. And the piece of paper, the token, poked out from the pile of dust and ash, one charred and curled corner visible.

The rooftop swayed as someone else’s feet took careful steps, and I whirled, The Way poised to strike. What I found there was nothing that I had ever expected.

It was Felix. I knew, deep down inside, that it was Felix. But the mental image of the eccentric homeless sage with the colorfully ribboned dreadlocks just would not hold together in the face of…I can’t even describe it. With my vision practically boiling over with magic, I could see straight to the truth of it, and I dropped to my knees, pressing with the heels of my hands at my burning eyes. And still I could see it.

There was only one thing in the world that could be so beautiful and so terrible all at the same time, and if you’d have asked me ten minutes before, I would have sworn that I didn’t believe in them.

Felix was an angel. Contrary to popular myth, he did not have a halo, or a white robe and feathery wings, and I was pretty sure he didn’t know how to play a lyre. There aren’t even words invented yet to describe what he looked like, and even just glimpsing him like I had, I knew the image would be burned behind my eyes for days. Maybe forever.

“It is best to keep your eyes averted, warrior.”