2 Days to go.
And Chapter 1
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Chapter 1
The Relic - Liam
Three thousand years ago, I saved the planet every week. Now, I’m nursing a drink in a bar straight out of an old western. They call it a whiskey sour, but it tastes like vinegar and regret. All that's missing is a poker game and some bastard getting shot for cheating.
A group of men in the corner snicker, tossing words like “bush dope” my way. An insult, I’m sure. If I cared, it might warrant a reaction. I don’t. The long black trench coat probably doesn’t help. It doesn’t exactly blend with the browns and dust-stained tones favored out here in the Outlands.
Black used to mean something. Before magic cracked continents. Before Gaia sealed me away. Maybe it’s rare now. Maybe it’s just a relic. Like me.
I still don’t know why I’m here. Gaia said she’d wake me if the world needed saving. But there’s no looming threat. No invasion draining mana from the world.
Just people I’d love to knock around.
They snicker again, saying I must be from the Scars. Definitely an insult. I just don’t know why. If Gaia’s deal allowed it, I’d freeze them to their chairs and teach them some manners. Unlimited power to protect the planet. No power to interfere with humankind.
“Hey, leather nyoka! Did you have to perform any special favors to get that coat?” one of them slurs, loud enough for the whole bar to hear, grinning like he’s proud of himself.
I woke up just over a month ago in this place they call the Outlands, and I haven’t been impressed.
Leather’s either shunned or too rare to ignore. I haven’t figured out which. Maybe it ties to the whispers. The ones about mages. About the city. Like I’m missing a bigger piece of the puzzle.
Out here, tech hasn’t advanced. It’s regressed. Most ride horses. A lucky few drive battered old trucks fueled by “corn juice.” But the real curveball? The money. Tungsten, then gold, then silver. I was not ready for that.
Their attention drifts more toward me with every drink. I glance down. One shallow sip left. Time to go before their game of insults becomes a game of fists.
One of them carries a pistol. Not anything I recognize from my time. I saw a man in another village use one. Looked old, sounded normal, killed just as easily. He cursed afterward, not about the death, but the price of ammo.
If they threw something or fired, then I could use magic. Part of the deal. I can defend myself. I just can’t strike first.
If I’d known the world would become a wasteland, split between mana users and everyone else, I might’ve made a different choice. I gave up my family to save this world. And for what? A shattered land of fear and division?
I could have grown old with my wife. Watched my kids grow up, fall in love, stumble through life, make their own mistakes. The ordinary kind of future. The kind I traded away.
Instead, they buried a man who never died.
I chose the world over them. Thought I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was. Maybe I saved something worth keeping.
But sometimes I wonder if all I did was trade their lives for a slower end.
Then again, without me, maybe no one would be alive at all. I wouldn’t have lived long enough to see my daughter grow up.
The tension snapped with a sharp voice cutting through the room. “Hey, Avicii!” I turn and spot a short figure in bulky, light-brown leather. Dark goggles cover their face.
So much for leather being rare.
“Who in the eight hells are you?” Avicii shouts back.
“Name’s Neko. I’m a Fetcher. Arbiter Syth sent me.”
Interesting name. I wonder if she knows what it means.
A chair scrapes back. Avicii rises. “Listen here, little girl. I’ll give you one chance to walk away. I’m not getting dragged to Nexaris by the likes of you.”
My eyes stay on the sassy little shit as she fires back. “You’re not worth the points. I just want the box you stole. Give it back, and we all walk out of here.”
Steel slides from a holster. He’s drawing.
Her hand blurs upward. White light flares. A heartbeat later, his hand is locked in a solid sphere of ice.
She’s fast.
The weapon inside isn’t a pistol. Even distorted in the ice, it looks more like a silver rod, maybe a foot long. His other hand, also encased, holds an actual pistol.
“Avicii, you should know better. A mana user like me is always quicker. I’ll pretend I didn’t see the clanker. Now give me the box, or the next ice spell goes around your face.”
Clanker? That’s what they call guns now?
The other men back away from the table, hands raised. Smart. They’re not ready to become human ice sculptures.
Avicii groans through clenched teeth. “It’s in the bag.”
She walks forward, hand glowing. “Kick it over nicely. Or I’ll freeze your crotch next.”
He doesn’t argue. The bag slides across the floor.
She scoops it up, never breaking eye contact.
“Leave my damn bag. You said you just wanted the box.”
She shrugs. “Consider it payment for making this more difficult than it needed to be.” She flings it over her shoulder and slips something from her left pocket, her right still poised for a spell.
When she leaves, I’ll have to make myself scarce. No way someone pulls a stunt like that in a bar without the law showing up. Last thing I need is someone asking for ID, if that’s even a thing anymore.
“You little crank. Fine, take the bag.” Avicii snarls. His eyes flick around the room like he’s waiting for backup. “You should know... Scarlett hired us. Yeah, that Scarlett. You’ve heard the stories.”
He leans in, his hands under his armpits for warmth, voice dropping. “People who cross her don’t hide. They don’t run. They just disappear.”
He chuckles. “Good luck.”
Neko steps toward the door. “How will she know who to look for if you’re all asleep?”
Shit.
I whisper a single word. “Shell.” A thin veil of magic wraps around me, repelling minor spells and potions.
She flicks a vial. It hits the bar. Shatters. Light explodes in a blinding flash.
When the glow fades, silence settles like dust. The four men slump to the floor, limp and unconscious.
Sleep spell mixed with a flashbang? Clever. Haven’t seen that before.
Behind me, bottles topple as the bartender collapses behind the bar.
She sweeps the room. When her eyes land on me, her hand lifts, glowing faintly.
Maybe I should’ve faked passing out. But I’ve never been good at pretending.
“Peaches!” she growls. “That should have worked, even with a ward. What’s another mana user doing out here?”
It’s true, then. Mana users are rare in the Outlands. I thought they were just hiding.
I lie. “Passing through. Don’t want trouble. I was about to move on.”
“Damn right you don’t want trouble.” Her hand stays raised. “Best to stay inside for a long time. If I even see a flash of your dark hair behind me, you’ll be walking on ice shoes.”
Normally, I wouldn’t scan someone’s power. They need machines for that now. But I check her core anyway.
She’s almost tapped out. Two ice spells drained her. The glow on her hand? Bluff.
She’s no threat.
I stand. “You go your way. I’ll go mine. I won’t be here when the law drops in.”
She takes a step back. “The law? You mean the Dustwalkers? Doubt they’ll show.”
I take a step. She flinches. “I mean it! Stay back!”
This is getting old. I can’t hit her. Can’t reveal my mana. So I lie again.
“Just go, you annoying brat.”
Her lips twitch in anger. The hood and goggles hide most of her, but that twitch says enough.
“You are a rude man,” she hisses.
“Good. We’ve traded insults. Can we leave now?”
I head to the door. She backs out, keeping distance. Sunlight hits my face, and the heat of it soaks into the black coat.
Three thousand years ago, this coat struck fear. People saw it and knew the Warrior Mage had arrived.
It used to have purple wings stitched on the back. I’ve covered them since I woke. Not sure how people would react now.
She steps aside, hand still raised. I pass her. Down the dust road to the east.
I say without looking back, “If you’re going to attack, do it now. Or drop your hand.”
A voice, carried like wind, brushes my ear. ‘She’s fascinating.’
I don’t glance back. I debate calling her bluff. If she attacks, I can defend myself. Could even teach her some manners.
For five years, I fought against the Olstone. Now, I can’t even right the wrongs in this place they call the Outlands.
No threat to the world. No apocalypse.
So why the hell did Gaia wake me?
Damn you, Gaia.