Triaa and Cread could only stare at him while my mouth hung open. 30 times over a life of 26 years? And 5 times over half a year? I squeezed his arm again, holding on until Vinz laid a hand on mine.

“Too tight, Amara,” he said, a small grin on his face. With a quick sorry, I removed my hands from his and placed them at my side.

“Why did you not tell us this, Vincent?” Cread asked, a hand covering Vinz’s shoulder.

“Because if I did,” Vinz began before closing his mouth and opening up once again, “you would know I was a warlock. You would know I was not the wizard of Light you searched for in that inn we get in. You would have had rejected my request to join, as many others did before”.

I could only turn away, Cread turning his eyes toward the ground.

“Kid,” Triaa began, “if you would have told us about that pact before-“

“No!”, Vinz cried, shocking Triaa into silence. “If I told you, any of you, you would sent me away alone, or worse, try to kill me, which you almost did!”

I could not meet his face, my neck warm once again from shame. He was right; if he told us when we met or in our first weeks of journey, Cread or I would have surely sent him on his way. And when he showed us the truth, fear gnawed at me and rage overtook Cread. We were told warlocks were dangerous, demonic, unwavered in the ulterior. And yet…

I stepped forward Vinz and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight as my brown hair met his. He froze in shock, but eventually he relaxed and held my shoulders with his hands.

Vinz, you have saved us countless times, from Jargon’s Reach to Greater Mane to right now where you stood in front of a dragon’s breath to save us. You taught us how to cook your island’s meals, how to sing your tales, and even taught me, an unteachable magician, basic magick. Vinz, you are a selfless mage, more than any wizard I’ve ever met. I’m sorry I ever doubted you for who you are, I’m so sorry I ever did”.

A weight wrapped my shoulders, a large hand cupping Vinz’s head. I peered upward toward Cread’s face, his brown eyes slightly glassy. “I’m sorry too, Vincent. I never should have attacked you after I saw your magick that saved us. My teachings taught me to hate every warlock I met, but you have taught me far more kindness than I have ever known.

A light sigh was heard from behind me as Triaa’s arms wrapped around us. “Well, I knew something was off about you from the start when you left a scar on my once clear arm. But I like you and the scars now, so I forgive you”.

We all laughed heartily as our embrace loosened, leaving only Vinz and I with each hand on the other’s wrists

“Thank you all. Truly. I couldn’t imagine a party without anyone of you” Vinz said with a grin. I smiled as I squeezed his arms one last time. Letting go, I began to look around the area for any path. Vinz came to my side, his hands to his eyes as he peered with me. With a point, he revealed a trail that went deep into the brush of trees with a small light of a lamp glittering in the background.

“Shall we head there, Amara?”

“Oh shall we head there, Vinz,” I responded with a bright smile. Vinz chuckled as we began walking forward, Cread and Triaa following behind. As he stepped past the corpse of the dragon, I left a small imprint on a scale. With a light rise from Vinz’s fingers, the imprint glowed and let the dragon levitate in stride with the two of us. Taking a look at the laughter between my three party members, I felt a sense of warmth, now not from shame, but of true and utter companionship.

“Sinaveil, grant me your power”

Vincent’s hands rose, black magick igniting from his fingers. The dragon before him growled, and sent a terrible turquoise flame toward us. My hands raised instinctively as the flames enveloped us both, but no heat rushed over my body and removed me from the earth. Even though I knew the breath only lasted seconds, it felt like eternity. When the beast closed its jaw, Vincent’s hands were scorched black, but they were already healing at a rapid pace. From black to raw red to a dark brown, his hands raised higher, the magick burning down his arms. With a cry, a pair of skeletal hands fit for a giant erupted from the ground and went for the throat of the dragon. As they strangled it, the dragon swept claws at bone and mage alike, a single finger grazing the palm of Vincent and letting out a line of blood. With a grimace, Vincent thrust down with his hands and slammed the dragon to the ground. With a twist, the hands snapped the neck of the beast, with a faint roar the final act of defiance.

As Vincent lowered his hands, the bone-bare hands lowered as well, disappearing into the earth without even a shimmer. As he turned toward me, his cut healed, but at a slower pace that showed scar tissue. I reached to grab my blade, but I recoiled as the hilt burned orange-hot.

“Here, let me heal you,” Vincent suggested, but I turned my burnt hands away from his, fear crawling up my spine.

“What in gods’ name was that spell, Vinz? You told us you were a wizard of Light, not of dead”.

“It is not what it looks like, Amara. There is no-“

“-evil within your magick!”

Vinz and I couldn’t help but duck as a mace the size of our heads swung over ours. As I looked up, I saw our Paladin, Cread, swing it around to his shoulder. With a shout, he sent another swing toward Vinz, crashing downward into the earth as Vinz leaped back with a flair of spell at his feet.

“Cread, listen to me! I do not want to fight any of you”.

“You fight me on my beliefs, warlock! There is no majesty in the dark!”

“Oh please, Cree, there most certainly is”.

Vinz gasped as a knife came to his throat. From the shadows, Triaa came forth, her hood of Plane-walking falling to reveal crimson locks of hair and elongated earlobes. She placed a hand on Vinz’s back and pushed forward, tipping his weight forward and onto her shoulder. Vinz attempted to move, but Triaa only tsked as the blade laid smooth on his Adam’s apple.

“Now, Vinz,” Triaa said as her weight shifted to hold him still, “you mind telling us exactly what that was?”

Vinz breathed deep, his eyes racing across my face and Cread’s. With another breath, he spoke once more.

“It, it was an invocation, of necromancy,” Vinz let out.

“Correct. And do you know what you told us when you joined our party six weeks ago?”

“That I only knew-ow-healing magick?”

“Correct again, my dear,” Triaa replied, her knife moving away from his throat. With a slight push, Triaa sent Vinz forward and making him near stumble on the length of his linen trousers.

“Triaa, what are you doing!?”, Cread asked, his mace raised high. I grabbed my blade from the ground, pointing it at Vinz whose hands raised in surrender.

“Come on, Cree, you know Vincent would not hurt a harmless fly, nevertheless his friends. Am I right, dear?”

“Right you are, ma’am,” Vinz gulped as Cread took a step forward, but sighed and lowered his mace to the ground. I took three forward, my blade pointed at Vinz’s nose.

“But he did say he was a wizard,” I questioned, my sword unwavering before him. “And no wizard does necromancy under the Guild”.

“Well, um, I’m the exception,” Vinz spilled nervously, his hands raising higher again as I thrust my blade slightly toward him.

“What do you mean by exception?’

“I’m a warlock, yes. I am a Necromancer, yes. But the Guild found my skills to be exactly what they need as a wizard, and so they let me go”.

“Your skills? You have basic magick control, fire magic, and healing. What do you need necromancy for?”

“Well, my healing is necromancy. But it’s a little hard to explain when you have a sword to the face,” Vinz pitched, with a single finger upon the top of the blade. With a single thought of doubt, I sighed and relaxed my arms. Sheathing the blade, I instead pointed a finger upon his chest and pushed to a rock in front of me. He sat down and twiddled his thumbs as Cread and I stood around arms crossed, Triaa opting to levitate cross-legged. With a nervous glance, Vinz sighed, pulling off his hood of lapiz and letting out a length of black hair to his shoulder.

“Ok, so,” he began to explain, “my healing is necromancy. It’s not complete necromancy, not one enough to rise a human or animal or Eldritch from the dead. What is enough to arise from death is these tiny, and I mean tiny particles on a person’s body. This allows me to essentially reverse wounds, by taking dead particles, letting them live again, and then having them join back with the rest of the particles happy-ever-after!”

“Wait, so you are telling me that I have nercomanced…THINGS on my body?!” Cread cried, his mammoth hands rushing across his arms and legs. Vinz chucked and laid a hand on Cread’s arm.

“Cread, you’re fine. They’re not rotting or boney like other necromanced things are. They’re slightly different in terms of makeshift, but that’s why the tiny scars are there”.

“Then why did you seem to heal completely from the dragon flame?” I interjected, my eyes glaring into his. Vinz looked at his hands, noting the lack of scar tissue from his arms or palm.

“When I called upon him, Sinaveil, he gave me much power as I needed to stop the dragon, heal us, and save you,” he stated calmly with a look of care at me. I felt a warmth creep up my neck before I flushed it down with a deep breath.

“That explains the giant hands then,” Triaa noted, her legs flipping around whilst she floated, “Physical projection or actual necromancy, by the way?”

“A little bit of both,” Vinz replied with a short smile. His face set back to stone as he looked at his hands once more. I reached for his hand, hesitated, and laid both palms on his arm instead.

“Is there something wrong, Vinz?” I asked quietly, squeezing his arm softly. Vinz sighed again and began looking in the distance, trailing the horizon with a sense of melancholy.

“Whenever I call upon Sinaveil, my life force gets taken away. Bit by bit every time.

“How much is a bit?”

“About half a year, give or take a day”.

I grit my jaw in shock, before asking “And how many times have you done so, Vinz?”

“Since I’ve been with you all, 5 times including now. Since I’ve known his presence… 30 times”.

(Part 2)

Gabriel bent to the floor as a cloud of yellow smoke flushed from Hemlock’s hand, enveloping the front line of goons. As some began firing blindly, Hemlock leapt from her position and bounded toward the ringleader with a laugh. With a drop to the ground, the ringleader’s mask lit from pink to a deep red, a visor of light materializing from the eyes. As shots rang out, Gabriel watched as the warehouse lights swung from side to side from the chaos below. As he tracked the light, he teleported to the illuminated ground behind a group of goons. Still not free from his bonds, he took one of the wolf-gangsters’ hands and threw them over his shoulder. As panicked shots rang out around him, he teleported again and caught another goon with a clothesline. As he began to teleport from gang member to member, he took note of Hemlock taking another group on her own. Enhancement braces firing with every punch, she sent a goon flying into a crate-filled shelf. As she continued to fight, the ringleader sent shot after shot toward her, his visor focused intently on the bands of Hemlock’s suit. Gabriel could only process the fight for a second before another goon sent a balled fist at his face. Gabriel weaved easily and slammed both fists into the goon’s stomach, teleporting behind another as a shot rang out. Gabriel barely focused on his whizz of the bullet before sending a side kick into the goon, slamming him onto the ground with a groan. A gang member swung a large knife downward at Gabriel as another shot toward him rang out. With another teleport, he caught the swing mid-air whilst pulling the bullet away from the armed goon. As he pulled the goon to the ground, he pulled hard toward the blunt edge of the blade. The bonds snapping, Gabriel looked toward the man with the gun and jumped toward it. His fist around the weapon in an instant, he crushed the barrel and hooked the goon to the ground cold.

Gabriel looked back toward Hemlock and saw her fighting the ringleader far-range. One Brace laid strewn on the floor, broken from bullet holes riddled at the bend. The ringleader’s visor still glowed, the red deep as he aimed his gun toward Hemlock. She sent out a wave of gas, disrupting the visor with a static noise. As he cursed with a snack toward his ear, Hemlock leapt toward him, the other Brace tight with power straight toward his side of his skull. Gabriel teleported with a readied fist, instantly moving to catch Hemlock’s brace with a grunt. The metal crunched as pressure moved down his arm, Gabriel straining to stop the fist. As the ringleader raised his gun once again, Gabriel sent a elbow into the man’s mask, cracking both the visor and mask eyes. The ringleader fell to the ground, a silent groan emerging from his mouth. Gabriel stood straight toward Hemlock and teleported to and fro her. In his left hand, he held her other Brace and tossed it to the side. Hemlock growled and pulled off her hood and mask, revealing curly brown hair tangled down to the side and a thin scar from the side of her mouth. She crossed her hands as Gabriel strode toward her, fists clenched to his sides.

“Get it over with, Seraph. Just another arrest for me, hmm?”

“I told you a thousand times, Hem. We’re done with the villainy, we do not aim to kill with any punch! You’re on probation so you could become a hero, not so that you go back to being a Vile! And what is with you saying that ‘only I can kill you’?”

“It was Lionheart orders, to distract the goons. Scripted and all. Maybe they want to show the Vile part of me so they could say I never changed after all so when I do go back to before-“

“You are not going back to the way you were before. No when, no if’s. You just charged your Braces to the point of severe injury, and sent some goons flying into metal, and…”

Hemlock crossed her arms and looked down, her hair sending shadows down her face. Gabriel looked at her and sighed. Removing his cowl, Gabriel crouched and looked at her face from below. Her eyes remained unfocused, her forehead wrinkled with regret.

“Hey, Melissa. It’s okay, alright? You’re not a bad person, no one who doesn’t want to be will be. You will make mistakes in this line of work.

“When do they stop, Gabe?”

Gabriel opened his mouth, shut it, and spoke.

“They never do, Melissa. They never stopped after I began 5 years ago. They never stopped after our first fight three years ago. They never stopped after any other fight of mine. I’ve grown up with this job, and I never stopped making mistakes. And you…you’ve been working as a gang enforcer for the entirety of your teenager years. You will make more mistakes than me, Melissa. And that’s okay”.

Melissa looked at Gabriel, her eyes teary from thought. With a breath, she looked toward the roof of the warehouse. Gabriel stood with her, his hands loose to his sides. He stood silently, a patient gaze on Melissa as she took breath after breath, second after second. After a while, she looked back at Gabriel. With a strained smile, she opened her mouth, shut it, and spoke.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay”.

“You are okay. I’m proud, Hem”.

Melissa’s smile grew wider as she wrapped her mask back on her face. Flipping back on her hood, she examined the area around her.

“What time will law enforcement arrive?”

“10-stat. ¿Tú ayudas limpiar?”

“Por supuesto, Seraph. I made a mistake last time though, with the bond-ties?”

“Don’t worry, I still make mistakes with those too”

Gabriel and Melissa laughed, and went back to their job of heroes once more.

“You didn’t seriously think I would let anyone but myself be the one to kill you, did you?”

Gabriel couldn’t help but sigh as Hemlock strode into the warehouse lights. With a gas mask and hood covering all but her citrine eyes, her sprayed-green Enhancement braces tightened with each step. Gabriel watched her carefully; even though Hemlock had reformed under Lionheart and his avocation, she still referred to him as her “enemy”. It still puzzled him that after months of probation and teamwork, she spoke about him like that. Maybe he would get to it after this fight…

As she moved forward, the collection of wolf-masked goons that surrounded Gabriel readied before him. Some raised guns while others raised fists, with a few raising eyebrows. The ringleader, a man with a neon pink-accented mask pointed a finger at the young woman.

“Oi, Vile! This is our Lionheart to hold. You take another step and my boys will ruin your get-up!”

Hemlock stopped and leaned on her hips, a gloved hand raised casually as she paid a quick scan on the group in front of her. “I won’t need another step to take out you, mi dulce niño. And he’s not even a Lionheart for god’s sake!”

“Wait, you all thought I was with Lionheart?”, Gabriel lied, “I am most definitely not associated with those clowns”. Gabriel attempted to raise his hands in protest, but the ion-induction bonds around his wrists prevented such an action.

“But we saw you running along with that hero days ago!”, one of the goons yelled, his gun swiveling past his friends with no respect to safety.

“Yeah, that Fae chick!”, another added, his fists dropping as he turned toward Gabriel.

“Uh, that’s private association, not corporate”, Gabriel, his eyes set slightly panicked behind his mask. “Besides, I’m literally marked as Vigilante under Cali government. Do you guys not do research on the people you kidnap?”

A slow muttering broke out between the group, with Gabriel noticing one goon slap another upside the head. With a frustrated yell, the ringleader clapped his hands together thrice.

“Would you shut it, team?! We have here the greatest hero in California and we are here arguing on his official statuses? He will bring a grand ransom, whether he’s dead or alive.”

“I prefer you don’t do the former?”

The ringleader growled and turned back toward Hemlock, raising his own gun toward her from a hostler in his belt. “Well, Vile, do you have any last words to mutter?”

Hemlock laughed, her head far back from amusement. As she looked back toward the group, her eyes glowed gleefully as she raised a spread hand. Even Gabriel felt a twinge of old fear as gears moved in the Enhancement brace on her shoulder.

“I do, dear wolf. Seraph is my foe, and you will never be that for me”.

“Hear me now, Gemini! I call to you your heroics, if you are truly a hero!”

Ugh, he spoke like a self-righteous priest. Which to be fair, he was. Choir, a cute name for such a pain. Edward Grace was his real name, once a infamous local singer before it was revealed that he was laundering money for the charities he helped support. To save his skin, he decided the best course of action was dig deeper into infamy by taking up Enhancement gear that moved his voice to booming levels. And here I was, behind him with seven other rope-tied cheerleaders that shivered in fear. We were all practicing on the football field when Choir and a goon ambushed us. Now, the goon followed his movements with a shoulder camera as Choir spoke into the mic, relaying the situation to the Mosmol news stations.

“Hark, Gemini. Would you sacrifice your greatest secret I. order to save these poor victims, these children, the-“

“Yeah man, we get it. We’re some good old damsels in distress. Could you please stop with the bad poetry to save my ears?

Choir and I swerved at the voice, him with a air of annoyance and mine with a hidden grimace. The voice came from the captain of the cheerleader squad, good old Rachael Way. She blew a strand of blond hair from her face and struggled to move her hand to presumably scratch her nose. “Like, there is more normal ways to get a Super to come for you. No need to make us suffer anymore than we need to.”

Choir stepped toward her and squatted, his voice soft yet sinister. “Is there anything else you want to say, kid?”

“Yeah, hope you get your face bashed”. Rachael heft a small amount of spittle at the man’s face, leaving a small mark on the mask that Choir wore. With a growl, Choir grabbed Rachael and tore her away from the rest of the group, sending up a shrill of panic from my friends. Choir took her to the camera, placing a hand to Racheal and holding her yellow top tight by the tag.

“Are you willing to let me hurt this young woman in exchange for your secret? Reveal your identity, or she’ll get her wish of never hearing my poetry again!”, Choir said menacingly. I bit my lip in anger, but there was nothing I could do. No costume, no space to pull heat from, no hands to control it. I needed another hero, but no way any of them could get here so quick-.

“Stop this madness, Choir!” a terribly fake deep voice spoke from behind us all. I turned my head as best I could and my heart stopped with it. There in my peripheral vision stood a dark-skinned teen boy with a silver helmet, black visor, and the dorkiest green vest I had ever seen.

“Oh, March. Weird to see you as the hostage this time,” a voice rang in my head. I rolled my eyes as I activated the small earpiece in my inner ear.

“You will never hold me up to this, Marcus, especially with the costume that you’re wearing”, I silently spoke back.

“Hey, I had a Saiyaman cosplay from last Comic-Com. It works for Chime, ok?”

“Sure thing, man. Now get me out of these damn ropes.”

Marcus nodded with a smile, exclaiming “Do you hear me, Choir?!”

Choir turned toward his cameraman with a look of annoyance once more and threw Rachael to the ground. With a yell, he let out a roaring YES from his mask, the sound waves enough to shake the ground below my feet. Marcus charged as he raised his hands high and released an equal blast of noise, countering the blast as he neared me and the rest of the hostages. With a slam against the ground, he sent shock waves rocketing toward Choir that sent a flood of turf flying forward. Choir crouched and jumped back, his Enhancement braces leaping him out of range. Marcus knelt next to me as he cut the ropes with a blade. With a little sleight of hand, he handed me the Transformation Brace containing my costume.

“You ready to get this guy?”, Marcus asked in my mind. A sly smile grew on my face as I replied to him, “Without question, Chime”. As the rest of my peers stood up, Choir growled loudly, enough for me to hear the nasal from 15 meters away. With another roar, he sent out a blast that made the waves of sound shimmer like mirages.

“Get out of here!” Marcus yelled as he countered once more, the distortion echoing across the field. As the rest of the cheerleader squad ran, I grabbed Racheal and dragged her up as we began following the rest of the group.

“You are insane, girl. Do you really think that Gemini would come that quickly?”, I asked as we sprinted away from the battle”.

“I just hated that guy’s deal. He spoke like an ancient poet with that weird “invocation” of his”.

I laughed silently as we crossed the fence to the football field. With a yell, I saw Marcus fly over me and slam into the hilltop next to us. Racheal ran faster as I faintly trailed behind and finally turned away. Running away to hide behind the bleachers, I whipped the Transformation bracelet around my hand and clenched it tightly. As the mesh of my outfit unfolded around me, I took a deep breath as ice crystals covered my hands. With the taste of metal apparent around me, I sent heat erupting around my body, leaping me over the bleachers with ease as the sudden change in temperature moved the air around me . I saw Marcus attempting to fight off Choir with one Enhancement fist shattered to the side. As Choir readied a roar, I let out a storm of sleet at his body. Colliding with the crack of broken ice, Choir stumbled and leapt back off-kilter. As he landed on the football field with a growl, I boosted myself toward Marcus and heaved him up. With a hand on his shoulder, he glanced down at his broken Enhancement fist.

“I’m guessing you smashed it when he smashed you into the grass?” I remarked as I watched Choir carefully, his heaves a sign of tension as he attempted to stand up.

“Yeah, and that one took 5 hours to make.”

“Oof, you made that one when I was with you studying, weren’t I? That was my favorite one too.”

“Unfortunate. Oh well, maybe next time I’ll make it quicker”.

“You still want to make him pay for it though?”, I asked as I readied a growing ball of flame in one hand and the other expanding shards of ice.

“Without question, Gemini”, Marcus said with a smirk as Choir finally stood up. I cooled the air around me as I sent the fireball at my feet. The pressure pushed toward Choir as Marcus ran with a single fist aimed with distortion at the villain’s chest. As I sent the now-dense shards at Choir’s head, I yelled to him, “Hey, Grace, you regret calling me now?!”

Simple and sweet. Also Gabby is a good kitty