Before Hex 1: "Firestorm" (Patreon)

“Gemma, calm down,” the man says.

A young woman is wringing her hands, staring at the half-burned trees before them. Half the forest was burned away, the smoldering remains are still smoking, sending black billows into the sky. It’s raining. Gemma herself conjured a gentle rainstorm to put out the fire. It smells like burning wood. Gemma liked that smell in warm inns but now it made her want to throw up.

“She should be nearby. At the center, where the fire started.” Gemma walks past the man without another word.

The man sighs and follows her. The rain patters softly on his armor as they walk in silence. As they near the epicenter, where the fire started, they begin to see corpses. Charred bones, ruined armor, blackened swords. These men were burned away in an instant, and now only refuse remains. When they reach the crater at the center of the devastation, Gemma looks out over it wordlessly. It’s empty.

“Not a sign of her,” the man says. He puts a hand on Gemma’s shoulder. “Listen, I know you don’t want to believe it, but–”

“Shut up!” Gemma twists out of his grasp. “Not another word! She isn’t dead. That’s what it means. She’s not in there because she survived.”

The man sits down on a rock at the edge of the crater. “Gemma, stop. This fire was massive. If Meila conjured a firestorm this large, there’s no way she survived. And if her body isn’t sitting in that ditch, you know what that means.”

“She would have brought me, if she intended to expend all her mana,” Gemma spits. “I’m her adjunct. It’s my job to keep her human, even if it means…” She sounds so strong, her voice so full of conviction, but the second she realizes what she’s about to say her words stop and a sob rises in her throat. She feels tears stinging her eyes. But she bites it back. “I was ready to do it. It was my burden.”

“She wanted to protect you,” the man said simply.

“Shut up! You don’t know that. You don’t know us, what we had. She trusted me to do it.”

The man shook his head. “Then why were you sleeping in the damn tavern? Why did she come out here alone to do this?”

Tears are streaming down Gemma’s face. “She must have survived long enough to leave. She didn’t use all her mana. She must have wandered away, probably weakened, unable to make it back.”

“Stop, Gemma,” the man says.

“You think she’s dead?” Gemma is crying, her voice is weak and strained. “Fine. Maybe she is. Maybe she had just enough mana to leave, and she walked somewhere before she had to kill herself.”

“Gemma…”

“She’s not a witch!” Gemma shouts. “She didn’t turn.”

“Meila left you behind because she didn’t want you to have to kill her, Gemma. She had to do it herself in the past. It’s a hell of a thing. Being an adjunct was the worst thing that ever happened to her. So she came out here, used all her mana up, and left you behind so you wouldn’t have to do it.”

Gemma is shaking her head, her jaw set, tears streaming. “No…”

“When the time came to do what needed to be done, she must have choked.”

“No…” Gemma’s voice is just a whisper now. “She wouldn’t choke. She’s strong.”

“Gemma, listen, there is a witch out there now, a demon wearing Meila’s body like a suit. We don’t have time for this.”

Gemma is silent.

“She’s a witch now, and Meila was very powerful. You know what that means. She is gonna hurt a lot of people. We need to tell the inquisitors and we need to find her.”

“This isn’t my fault, is it?” Gemma asks finally, her voice frail and soft. The man can barely hear her over the rain tapping on his helmet.

“It’s no one’s fault,” he says. “It’s not yours, it’s not hers. But we’ve gotta stop her. I can’t do this without you.”

For an instant, Gemma wants to throw herself down into the crater. It’s not deep enough to kill her, and the thought passes a moment later. She just wants to be gone, to not be living in whatever hell this is that she woke up into this morning. But he’s right, and she knows it. But Gemma doesn’t feel like she even knows how to live without Meila.

Never once had she questioned herself. She knew that when the time came, she would stain her own hands in Meila’s blood, just as all adjuncts must when their mage runs out of mana. But what had she planned to do after that? Did she really believe that day would never come?

“She never trusted me to do it,” Gemma said out loud. The realization made her heart hurt. “And it was because of me. I never thought this would actually happen.” She looks down at her hands. They’re shaking, as she stares at them. Her clean hands accuse her more loudly than any amount of blood could. “I’m a fool. I thought we would be together forever.” The tears flow freely now. “How could I think that?”

The man sighs and looks down into the crater. “Don’t go there, kid.” He stands up and walks over to her. “Besides, it’s not too late to make this right. Let’s go.”