Art Academy

09/05/2016 11:24 AM ·Spoilers

Magical Girl Noel and the Fractured sword Chapter 3: Is it fate, or something stupider? Azrath was angry at himself, he was wasting so much time testing the newly materialized crack, and his initial glee had long since worn away. The ahngreel had not yet arrived on Earth yet (Azrath knew that time flowed differently on each world, though nothing specific), and the longer he waited, the closer

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would be sacrilege, the worst crime imagineable. But he had to do it, for the Earth, for Urzuran, and for life itself. When he got to his forge, he wanted to stop again, to stand in front of his door and refuse to go in. But he made himself go, he walked in and placed the sword (the sacred sword) on his table. Undoing the pins that he held them together, he separated the blade from the hilt.

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Two pieces. The pins of the sword had no magical properties in themselves, just the blade and hilt, if he wanted to divide the sword into six more pieces, he'd have to fragment one or the other. The hilt was too intricate and beautiful for him to even think about destroying it, so the blade it was. He lay the blade in the furnace, allowing the sacred eternal flame within to heat it to white hot.

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When it was ready, he lay it on the anvil, and took an enchanted chisel and hammer to its burning surface. Azrath, longed to close his eyes as he sank the chisel into the blade, but he had to make sure that each swing of the hammer was strong and precise, the angle of the chisel absolutely perfect. At last he lay his tools down, picked up a pair of tongs, and dipped each of the seven newly

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divided pieces into the oil that would seal whatever magic they contained within the broken blade. The eight pieces gleamed in the light of the setting sun as Azrath stepped back to admire his work. Well, admire wasn't exactly the correct word he was use, more like gazed in absolute horror. He felt drained, more mentally and emotionally than physically. But the deed was done, and now it was time

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to set out on his new misson. Carefully, trying to avoid cutting himself on the still sharp edges of the blade, Azrath scooped the eight pieces in his hands, ran outside, and launched himself into the air with a beat of his wings. Minutes later, he touched down in front of the statue, and lay each piece lovingly on the ground, arranging them in a straight line. He put his hand on each piece of

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the blade, focusing on pushing his magic from where ever it resided within him, out through his fingers, and into each piece, dividing it as evenly as he could. As he moved from piece to piece, he felt his body get lighter and lighter, his arms and legs grew numb, eventually losing feeling completely. By the time he got to the hilt, which was the final piece, all he could feel were his head and

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wings, a little feeling had come back to his legs but just enough to support his weight. He was so exhausted, that he used his wing to write out the spell, using what little magic he had left to summon the crack. As the light overwhelmed him, he felt the tug of it, pulling towards the dark void in the center. In front of him, the eight pieces of Urzuran's sword rose up and moved forward towards

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the crack. Somehow, they looked a lot bigger than before, odd, Azrath thought. Then, they vanished. With the last of his strength, Azrath beat his wings, rising up towards the void above him (wait, above him?) until he felt the tug pull him towards the great maw in front of him. As he was drifting closer to the crack, he turned for one last look at Eziro, his home, before he left it, maybe

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forever. It was then that he spied something on the ground at the plinth's base: a pile of clothes, Azrath recognized them as his clothes. How very curious, what were his clothes doing there when the should be on him? He looked down at his presumably naked body and saw nothing. Wait, what? Then he reached the void, and everything went black. **************************************

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Nobody knew what the space between worlds looked like. Before the Great Urzuran divided the universes, those who could use magic would be able to travel freely between them. Going from one world, and appearing in another was as easy as a simple teleportation spell. But few were brave enough to actually go between worlds, and those who did, either never returned, or came out stark-raving mad.

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Any knowledge of the Inbetween came from the insane ramblings of these mad men, who spoke of darkness, bizarre magic, and strange creature that dwelled within. When asked for details, the mad men or women would instantly start screaming without stopping, eventually passing out from lack of air. None of them lasted long, either dying mysteriously, or by simply taking their own life.

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Soon the story of the Inbetween became something parents told their kids to make them behave, describing horrific monsters such as the Murrowa a giant, fish-like being that could move through darkness itself as one would water and swallow anything whole. Another one, which I'm sure you've heard of was the creature that hides in the shadows under one's bed, or in the closet, we call him the boogey

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man, but in other worlds, he's known by other names, such at the Shade, Burak Long-Fingers, or even Smill (which sounds funny until you hear in grusome detail how eats the souls of those who simply laugh at his name). Though there were many stories, none of the parents who told them believed they were true, but the children did. And the one thing I'll tell you for certain about the Inbetween:

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It's where the ideas and nightmares of people who believe in them enough, become a reality. ************************************** Azrath slipped in and out of consciousnes as he drifted through the darkness, he could feel the magic of the fragments of Urzuran's sword somwhere ahead of him. At times, when he was conscious enough, he would at his surroundings, but see nothing. Above him

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was darkness, at least what he thought above was. What was possibly below, was also darkness. He was completely desensitized, with no feeling in his body, as well as moving in total darkness without the aid of gravity, he had absolutely no idea if he was moving forward, or even at all. Time passed, maybe, but he had no idea how much, for all he knew, the ahngreel could have ravaged the Earth a

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thousand years ago by the time he got there. It was enough to drive anyone crazy. The only things that kept him sane, however, were those eight tiny flickers of magic somewhere ahead of him. It allowed him to focus on something other than darkness. A noise from above him made Azrath look up, and give a high-pitched scream. A pair of massive red eyes were looking down at him, and growing even

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bigger as it closed the gap between, and fast. The thing, whatever it was, opened its mouth wide, exposing a set of sharp teeth that glowed yellow in the blackness. Azrath wanted to go back to sitting in darkness. The thing let out a shriek as it slammed into something hard, whatever it had hit glowed so brightly that it cause Azrath's eyes to water, he shut them tight, and good thing too, he

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had no desire to see what that thing looked like. The shrieks of the thing faded away, even still, Azrath gave the silence a long time to stretch itself out before he felt brave enough to open them. He looked around, darkness, welcoming darkness. He breathed a sigh of relief. That light must have been Urzuran's wall, protecting the worlds, and, thankfully, himself from the nightmares of the

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Inbetween. He thanked Urzuran over and over for his light and protection until something else caught his attention. He turned, and counted the number of pieces floating out of sight ahead of him. Seven, one piece was missing, then six, five, four, three, then two, then finally, one. The end of the road.

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*This chapter isn't over yet, but I don't think I can finish it tomorrow as I work all day, but I will return on Wednesday to complete it. Thanks to all who are keeping up with my story! I'll see you soon!*

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