Tyler tried to keep as still as possible, but found it difficult not to resist adjusting due to the pain of having his hands tied behind his back for so long. The zip-ties around his wrists burned as they ate at the skin. He could feel the blood drip down his fingers. The cultists paced around them. Tyler counted at least ten.
Joining him in bondage was Isla, Damon, and several he never met before. Damon was unconscious, as were many others, but Isla sat wide awake and prepared to act. Tyler could tell she had a plan. Isla turned to him, gave him a saucy wink, and spoke, "You did hide the coin in your shoe, right? Your club has probably been destroyed."
Tyler nodded in reply. He knew no one noticed, but couldn't help checking to see if anyone heard. The paranoia only got worse as he locked eyes with one of the cultists, a red haired woman, staring right at him.
He quickly averted his eyes, and came to a realization. Despite the fact each of the cultists wore respirators he could identify most of these people as women. Only two men counted themselves among their rank as far he could see.
It made sense. Tyler remembered Morrigan explaining it. Being a woman, and possessing red hair, be it natural or otherwise, strengthened one's connection to The Scarlet Arts, and the cult's strange goddess.
These were different from members of the cult Tyler encountered before. Before this, the members of The Fiery Lock felt like ordinary people, like himself. This time, the men did. The women did not.
They had an imposing aura surrounding them, something that couldn't be seen, but something that struck him to the bone. It wasn't a choice that Tyler refused to look at them. It wasn't his wish to not draw attention. The rifles, dangling from staps on their shoulders, felt like a warning, but their very presence felt like a compulsion.
Their presence in the static was subtle, like a whisper. Their movements were a prime example of grace, but not like an artist. This was a grace of a different kind, like that of a viper coiled to strike. They were beautiful, and young, but something in their voice drained him of hope, like a low growl on the deadest and blackest of nights.
He struggled to determine just who, or what, they were. Morrigan mentioned the elites of the cult. They were the most skilled combatants, and the right hands of the Matron, herself: The Red Witches, The Ladies-In-Waiting.
No wonder they took over the mansion so easily, Tyler thought. They brought the enitre cult. They barely had time to prepare when they received the warning. Tyler resisted the urge to keep his head down. He strained to look up, hoping to catch their faces as they patrolled.
What he saw didn't add up. Some were proud, dominant, and bathed in the radiance of victory, but a select few were distraught. They buried their grief. Their faces served as a hastily constructed facade, desperate to push such emotion as deep as it would go.
Tyler turned to Isla, twitching his eye slightly but unable to fake it enough to work. She responded, winked at him, and listened as Tyler spoke, "Look at their faces."
Isla strained as much as he did to catch a glimpse of their sadness, and when she did, she turned to him with a smile. This was not a reaction to a realization. It was a smile he never saw on her face before, one of pride.
She started to speak, but hesitated, as if she didn't want to spoil it, "Y-you see it too?" she whispered. "Is that a violin I ear?"
Tyler lowered his brow and cocked his head. He couldn't hear a thing. He shook his head and her smile disappeared in an instant.
Isla sighed. "Seems this cult is a house divided. Don't say any-"
A sudden tremor rattled the ground beneath them as a massive burst of static washed over The Estate. Tyler felt the static, turned his head to its source, and the windows of the mansion blew out in a massive explosion of force that shattered the night.
Each of the cultists darted forward. They moved as one, directing and declaring their movements like soldiers would. Isla sat up, straightening her back. She wiggled her arms under her legs, bent her knees, and brought her hands over her feet. She gestured for Tyler to do the same.
As he did, he watched as she clasped her hands together, straightened her arms, and braced herself for the pain. She brought her arms back, her wrists colliding with her chest. The zip-ties snapped off. She winced, then nodded. Tyler did the same, trying hard not to growl at the pain.
Isla smiled. "We will not be beaten by plastic."
Tyler turned to the cultists and his eyes widened when he saw one of the women looking right at him. She snapped her finger to get the other's attention, pointed at Tyler, and raised her rifle. The others followed suit, drawing weapons of their own, and organizing themselves. Three were sent to handle Tyler and Isla, while the others proceeded to the mansion. Another rushed off. Tyler assumed he ran to get more help.
Tyler turned to run and looked down at Isla, who was putting on her shoe. She held her coin in her hand, gave it a flip, and let it spin as it hovered in the air. Tyler heard a gunshot, then the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the coin.
The cultist fired again, and again as Isla narrowed her eyes. The coin darted from one side to the other, catching the bullets before they could pass. Isla focused, a hunter marking the kill. She lifted her hand, connected her thumb and middle fingers, then flicked the air.
The coin disappeared, moving far too fast for Tyler to see, but the result was obvious: The coin straighted itself, its narrow side lining up. It darted forward, passing through the woman's skull. A puff of red mist rose from the back of the cultist's head as her body fell, and the sight made Tyler sick. The coin was back as suddenly as it disappeared, now stained with blood.
Tyler retrieved his coin, holding in his hand as he tried to work out how Isla was able to predict the trajectory of the bullets. He looked up when he heard another cultist shout, drawing the attention of others who turned back and ran toward them.
Tyler turned around and started working at the zip-ties on the other prisoners. Isla's coin continued to deflect incoming fire as several cultists rushed toward them. She walked forward, calmly sauntering over to the body of the cultist she killed. She claimed the woman's rifle, raised it up, and fired back.
When Tyler finished with the zip-ties, rousing each of the prisoners from their slumber, Isla returned with several firearms ranging from rifles to a pistol, which Damon claimed immediately.
"Come on," Isla said. "Grab a gun and hide in the trees." She pointed to a small patch of thick trees, a few hundred yards in size. They obeyed, and ran into the tree-line, making a point to stay together.
Isla screamed, "Tyler."
"I'm here," he replied, keeping pace with her as he ran.
"Wanna see a cool trick?" she said, laughing through labored breaths.
Tyler snapped, "Is this really a good time?"
"How many bullets does that gun have?"
Tyler rolled his eyes, "How the fuck would I know. I've never even held a gun before."
"That's good. Why bother counting? Forget I said anything."
They all came into a clearing and Isla stopped, shouting for the others to do the same.
"Huddle up," she screamed, and they all obeyed. They could hear the cultists entering the trees. Tyler assumed there would be far more. They shouldn't be so exposed.
“Shoot into the air above us,” Isla commanded. The others turned to her, baffled that she could waste ammunition. Their enemy neared with every passing moment. They were surrounded.
"Why?" Damon asked.
"I want to see what happens." Isla replied. "Besides, they can conjure barriers. It's a waste of bullets either way."
The enemy rushed from the treeline, men and women dressed in red robes and armed with whatever they could find. Some held shards of glass in bleeding hands, others came with chains and lead pipes. Others fired their guns till running out of ammunition, only to pull curved blades from their robes.
“Do it,” Isla warned. “What's the worst that could happen?”
“Shoot into the sky?” Damon asked. “Shouldn't we shoot at the actual threat, Ms. Walker?”
"Are you not?” Isla replied. She aimed her rifle to the sky, and pulled the trigger. The others followed suit, emptying their weapons in a burst of deafening sound.
Tyler aimed, fired, and felt the kick against his shoulder. The bullets raced into the sky until the sounds of empty magazines clicked randomly all around them. Despite this, Isla and Tyler continued to fire. The heat built up in the barrel, glowing red-hot from sustained fire. Tyler wondered why he hadn't run out yet.
Click.
The moment Tyler asked, the gun answered. Tyler had a sneaking suspicion that it was his fault, like the very act of questioning it made it so. Isla's never stopped. Even as the cultists were near enough to be seen, it was Isla who decided when enough was enough.
Isla threw the gun to the ground, the barrel bent and melting from the heat.
Damon screamed at her, “Are we just going to stand here and die?”
“Any second now,” Isla said, sitting on the grass. The cultists were nearly at their throats. The others cursed at her, one even motioning to attack Isla directly. She simply sat, playfully picking at a flower she found while searching in the dark.
The moment the horde reached them, a sound came, a whistle that ended in a burst of blood spewed forth by the nearest attackers. The sound repeated itself, overlapping as the bullets came screaming down from the sky above. Not a single bullet missed, hitting the cultists with more force than should be possible.
The bullets tore through them. Some of the cultists screamed, others tried to run away once they realized what was happening. In the end, Isla smiled. The others stared in confusion, but Tyler laughed and stared in awe. They stood with a perfect circle of bodies surrounding them.
Isla stood up, put her hands on her hips, and let out a sigh of relief. “Well, then. Let’s see what’s going on at the mansion, yeah?” They followed in silence, making their way out of the treeline. As they did, the air seemed to change.
The night took on a red hue, as if viewed through a colored lens. It was in the sky, making the night seem brighter. It painted the ground, every obstruction casting vermilion shadows. Scarlet ashes floated around them, dancing on the winds from their source, and growing in number as the group neared the sound of agonized screams.
Yay! Another chapter. And from the opening, I can already tell it's been way too long because I had to think as to why Tyler was handcuffed with zipties. Secondly, what is your sleep schedule? I'm pretty sure you're based in Oklahoma, which means it's like it's 1 AM. "Joining him in bondage was Isla, Damon, and several he hadn't met before." There are so many things that are off about that phrasing. "Joining him in bondage" is not a phrase that I've ever heard used to describe captives. I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but that's a little off. You should also say "several people he hadn't met before" since just saying several doesn't actually say what. It could be Cultists or Oxfordians. Wait. Did Morrigan actually say that red hair, natural or not, strengthened one's bond with the Scarlet Arts? I can't remember that ever happening and that feels like it was very much so out of the blue. Odd. I love the idea that the cult is split, though I would like to see a little more suggestion of by what. The way I saw it, the women who became "The Ladies-in-Waiting" had essentially commandeered the actions of the cult, forcing everyone to fight despite what they wished. I love Isla's cockiness when fighting and how easily she's able to handle the cultists. Though, I don't fully understand why they're only fighting with guns when it's obvious that Isla has better tricks up her sleeve. Not really related to your writing, but I'm either having a strange moment of Deja Vu, or you've mentioning Discordians shooting into the air before. Shouldn't Isla have needed to use her catalyst for whatever spell conjured the magic bullets? Also, great allusion calling the chapter Schrödinger's Bullets when the bullets played a part. I also liked the ending. The sudden wash of Scarlet Arts over the whole area, giving warning that the rage-bound Morrigan was coming and she is about to tear through everyone in her path, whether or not she wants to. Great work!
WOAH! lol you're fast. I was editing this just moment ago XD I thought you'd be asleep. She did NOT say that it could be artificial, but she does mention how being a woman and having red hair makes one more powerful. It happed back in A quick breath i think, though i don't fault you for missing it. Lots of weird in that chapter. Bondage is correct, BUT i'm picking up what you're putting down. Ill change that. It's kind of a product of how i phrase things. XD That is a very good theory as to why it's split, but it's not them as a group. Morrigan is the lady in waiting that has divided the cult. Lisbeth hints at this, but ive checked and it kind of need more. The cult doesnt like the story of what Gemma did, taking the position from morrigan who was supposed to have it. The problem with Arcana Discordia is (im gonna use video game/rpg terms here) it tends to focus on AOE spells. There are not many spells that help with one on one. killing a teacup, like tyler did, doesn't amount to much when there are 10 teacups out to get you. Why they are using guns is explained soon, as no one has catalysts save for Isla and Tyler. The cultists have a vast assortment but i may make that clearer. The main problem is that they all have the ability to create barriers. YUP this scene came from a little flash fiction i wrote over on the Arcana Discordia article. I have since edited it to this new version, but that's where the scene came from and why it may sound so familiar. That would depend on how the prestige is used. The spell cast is sometimes dependent on a catalyst, such as Cascade, but The Cheat Code, the spell for wielding God's shotgun, and Syncronicity don't. They are both used here to produce a more powerful effect. Instead of tripping over rocks, the bullets happen to hit where they need to. A lucky break using physics. Most powerful spells are creative combinations of weaker ones. okay... glasses down lol Also yes.... Morrigan is... upset right now, and she's about to go toe to toe with others who technically match her in skill. I hope it is suitably epic. It is 1 a.m yes. lol I'm a night own and tend to write most in these wee morning hours. I tend to sleep round 3 - 10 or so.
Fast is my middle name ;) Except for when I go to sleep. Then I'm very slow. This was actually the last thing that I did before going to bed, so you're half right. Oh yeah. I remember her mentioning the red hair's effect. I must have forgotten with the addition of the artificial aspect. Ahh. I forgot about the whole Morrigan thing. However, you do need to expand on that more. You suggested that anyone who followed Morrigan or supported her was killed, somewhat suggesting that the majority of the cult stood behind Gemma. I didn't make the connection that these people were against it because of Morrigan because I thought most of the remaining cult would follow Gemma. I don't really understand what exactly you mean, but I guess that makes sense. That would do it. I guess I did read it in your Arcana Discordia article. I feel like I keep forgetting that and I've mentioned it repeatedly. But that's a very cool spell. Increasing the chance that the bullets are exactly where they need to be. That is very awesome. As little as i understand your system, it would be amazing to experience. That sounds epic. Let's see if you live up to expectations. That sounds like my ideal sleep schedule. But I have parents and school forcing me to keep to a more strict schedule. Alrighty, keep writing! And maybe try to finish before December... because, you know, World Ember.
I'll go back and add the artificial part and ill go ahead and make it where Lisbeth kind of reiterates that many were killed, but others switched sides to avoid becoming like Alice. I have misgivings regarding a flashback scene but i could make one if it doesnt work out... hmmm.. Oh, I'll get it done. That's the goal. Gotta keep moving and editing, though it seems my exposition is a HUGE issue. By now, the prestige should be understood. Exposition is a weakness for me. ive been wondering how to fix it. Maybe including excepts from the text?